Children of the Atom - Part 1: Wasted Land
by commandocucumber
Summary: Ordered to the Capital Wasteland to retrieve the property of Mister Robert Edwin House, the Mojave Courier comes face to face with a demon from her forgotten past, even as a new ally is forced to look towards his own future.
1. Chapter 1

**Well here we are at long last. I bet this came out earlier than most of you expected, eh?**

* * *

Children of the Atom

Chapter 1

* * *

The canyon stretched as far as the eye could see. A great cataclysmic rift, splitting the world to its very foundations. The only emotion the colossal trench invoked was one of despair. It represented the end of the road. All roads. It was life. It was death. It was of the old world, and the new. It was not just a scar, another crater on the surface. It was a deep and grievous wound, baring the planet to its very bones. Earth's fatal injury.

A man sat upon an overturned car a great height above, and looked down upon it. He watched the collapsed towers lying in ruin at the bottom, the water and fluids draining out of the old-world pipes. Electrical cables crossed the immense fissure, spitting static and bleeding electrical discharges. The sparks lit up the endless walls of the trench, and could be seen for miles. He watched the great divide's demonic denizens crawling like ants over the wreckage of the old world, and felt that he was staring into the deepest pit of hell.

This was not his doing, but walking it was his penance. His duty. His life's meaning now that _she_ had come and gone. He lowered his gas mask to take a sip from his water bottle.

"Ulysses?" A quiet voice cut through the swift, bracing wind.

Ulysses stood, brushing his thick black dreadlocks out of his eyes. A visitor stood behind him a few feet away, hands at his sides.

Ulysses' arm swept out, showing the Great Divide. "This road…not yours to walk. If you move forward I will not stop you, but know that this would be your end."

The man glanced mildly at the rift. "No. It wouldn't."

"Arrogance." Ulysses intoned.

"Knowledge."

"Ignorance."

"Experience." The man said with an air of finality which brooked no argument.

Ulysses' head tilted as he considered his visitor. The man had an ageless face. A dirty, worn blue jumpsuit. At his hip was a single 10mm pistol. His face and hair were spotlessly clean, and he carried himself with such striking gravitas that it gave the former courier pause. This man was not to be trifled with. Ulysses moved around him, surveying him from every angle. On the back of the man's blue jumpsuit was a worn number in yellow lettering.

"Thirteen." Ulysses said, "Old number. Hated number."

"Only on the paths you've trodden."

"You fight for the Bear?"

"Not the Bear, nor the Bull." The man smiled, "I do believe I am something you've never seen before."

Ulysses stared. "I have seen many things. Some I would remember. Others, Forget. In youth walked many roads for the Bull. Watched men live, watched men die. I watched the sun rise on Caesar's empire. Watched it fall on my own tribe. Watched land split, sky darken over the Divide. A place which could have been. I have walked the longest roads in this world."

The man's smiled widened, and out of Ulysses brain, he pulled the Courier's deepest thoughts. "If you say so. But what lonely roads they were, yes? You sit here now, wiser, stronger, faster… you are not bothered by wind, rain, dust, radiation. No matter the circumstances, no matter the odds, you live. Through bullets, and radiation, and nuclear fire, you live. But the bullets have long since lost their sting. The Radiation lacks its burn. Nothing affects you anymore. And here you stand, at the supposed end of your road… believing it's where you belong because you have nothing else left to believe in. You've seen too much, and you've lived too long. You are not the same idealistic boy who left the Twisted Hairs to scout in Caesar's name. Not physically. Not mentally. You've survived so much you're not even sure you're human anymore."

Ulysses took a step back, eyes widening. "Who are you?"

"Albert Cole."

Ulysses grunted in frustration. The Stranger had reached right into his soul and touched the darkest thoughts which the Courier had barely admitted to himself on the darkest sleepless nights. "Did not ask that. Who are you?"

The man raised both of his hands, palms upwards. "I alone am responsible for the birth of Shady Sands, and through it, the NCR. Long before Caesar's birth, I bore witness to the death of the Master, and the rise and fall of the Enclave. I saw the rise of the Mid-Western Brotherhood of Steel, the destruction of the Reavers, and the Calculator. Even now, that civilization is in its twilight years, besieged on three fronts, it will die soon, and still I walk on. I will be there to see humanity's Phoenix rising from the ashes again and again and again. I am called Albert Cole, The Vault Dweller. And I, for one, am tired of walking. I believe, Ulysses, that it is once again time to get involved."

* * *

The elevator door to Mister House's Penthouse slid back to reveal an unusually beautiful young woman. Most people in the wastelands aged quickly, exposed to sun and hard toil, yet she looked untouched by the roughness of the world. Her skin was pale, despite the hours she spent in the sunlight.

With brilliant green eyes she took in the NCR desert rangers wearing their black armour and dusters, standing guard on either side of the elevator and she raised one dark, slender eyebrow in surprise.

She herself was dressed in a sleeveless blue duster with the ace of spades and the number twenty-one emblazoned on the back. A desert ranger beret was fitted neatly on her head at just enough of an angle to give it a fashionable look instead of a functional one. Perhaps the only thing marring her beautiful features were two scars, so close together they might as well have been one. They were round and rough, located on the right side of her forehead, though she kept them partially obscured with a few carefully errant strands of her dark hair. When presented next to her jade eyes, flowing black hair, and well-endowed figure, they were hardly noticeable.

She smiled at the guards and they both immediately relaxed, weapons slowly lowering to their sides, despite their rigorous training.

The young woman moved past them and continued through a side doorway, brushing the plush curtain aside to reveal an enormous bank of monitors upon which was painted the handsome face of Robert Edwin House.

Seated on a couch below him were three people, two men and a woman.

"Ahh, Jessica." House's warm voice echoed through the airy space of the Penthouse, "Welcome. Please take a seat." His face flickered on the screen.

"I wish you had told me we were entertaining guests, I would have put this place in order." The young woman said, smiling once again. The guests below tore their eyes away from her to look around the Penthouse, in which not a single smudge of dust or dirt could be found. It was a sterile and well-organized place. The very opposite of the mess the woman was implying, though her words caused them to view their surroundings in a negative light.

Just because she said so.

While they examined the penthouse, she examined them. The two men were well-dressed with tailor-made suits. One was a military uniform and Jessica recognized the man beneath it as General Lee Oliver; the man who, six months ago, had held Hoover Dam against the onslaught of an utterly fanatical enemy. The badge on his shoulder depicted the NCR's insignia, the two-headed bear. The man had a hard face and an unyielding military view of the world. He would be the hardest nut to crack. Beside him, the second man was dressed in a tailor-made suit. His own haircut said military, but Jessica recognized the politician. A man who fought with words and ideas. He would be the easiest to outwit. The subtle blush of his cheeks told her that he had noticed more than her uniform, and was doing his best to hide his inner thoughts. She did not mind; that served her purpose better. The more his brain was occupied, either with thinking up adult scenarios for the two of them or trying to prevent himself from doing the same, the less brainpower was present to analyze her words and arguments. Besides, it was fun.

The woman in the trio was at least fifteen years' Jessica's senior, and had a stern demeanor. Wearing a standard NCR soldier's outfit, she gave the impression of a school marm and strict disciplinarian.

"Jessica, I do hope you aren't offended," Mister House began, "I've invited these three up to my penthouse to discuss a treaty, if you're not opposed."

"On the contrary, I have a deep-seated respect for the NCR!" Jessica said, slowly making her way down the stairs, her slender hand running along the railing. "I think that an alliance would benefit everyone." Her tone indicated, at least to the president and Colonel Moore, that the only things standing between a deep and lasting friendship between Free Zone and the NCR were a number of minor, yet unavoidable inconveniences which forced both sides, against their will, to opposing ends of the political and military pitch. It went a step further to suggest that the NCR was at fault for most of those inconveniences.

In reality, as General Lee Oliver clearly remembered, peace had been shoved down the exhausted NCR military's throat at gunpoint by the treacherous, silver-tongued young bitch and Mister House's army of robots.

Of the three visitors, he was the only one completely unmoved by her charms. He watched helplessly as President Aaron Kimball rose from his seat and kissed the young woman on the hand.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person." the politician proclaimed, "I hear you were the one who saved my life."

"I do my best." The silver-tongued girl replied, turning her charm up a little. The president's eyes lingered on her a little too long for Oliver's comfort. Then the politician turned to his compatriots, "May I present Colonel Cassandra Moore, and General Lee Oliver."

"A pleasure." The young woman told them, oozing friendship and amiability.

"We've met." Oliver grunted, crossing his arms.

Cassandra Moore rose to her feet and shook the young woman by the hand, "Why are you dressed in a First Recon Beret?"

"A gift from a friend of mine."

"If we could get back to the discussion at hand…" Mister House prompted. President Kimball acted the gentleman and guided Jessica to a seat beside the couch.

"As you know, Jessica, Caesar's Legion has once again taken up residence on the east side of Hoover Dam." Said Mister House.

"And your Securitrons haven't wiped them out yet?" Jessica asked.

"They easily could." House assured them, "But this is much bigger than just another attempt to take the Mojave. The Legion's influence is far greater, and it's empire more vast than anything we had previously imagined."

President Kimball cleared his throat, "Just recently we received word from a group ruling the northern mid-west of the United States. It appears to be another section of the Brotherhood of Steel. They were requesting help."

"I thought the NCR and the Brotherhood didn't get along." Jessica said, frowning.

"That is in the past." Kimball said indistinctly.

"The Legion are much worse." Colonel Moore told her.

"We don't." Oliver grunted, his stare burning holes in the carpeted floor.

"The fact," Mister House said, "Is that they rule the mid-west. What you've seen of Caesar's Legion is not one-twentieth of the Full Legion. The rest of it is under the command of one William Calhoun, and in the background it has been quietly flooding east across the southern states, building up supplies and troops. His Frumentari have infiltrated all the way to the east coast. The old Caesar is dead, leaving his forces under Calhoun's command. We believe the new Caesar is going to catch the Mid-Western Brotherhood in a three-front war from the west, east, and south. If he succeeds, then America will be split neatly in half along the Colorado river, with the NCR and Free Zone on one side, and the Legion on the other. They will own more than half the continent."

He paused to allow his Protégé time to register and absorb the information.

"With that kind of territory under his control," Colonel Moore told her, "He could pull potentially limitless troops and supplies and overrun the NCR. Not to mention the Free Economic Zone."

"God knows, the last battle of Hoover Dam was a fiasco to say the least," Kimball added.

Jessica shot him a winning, toothy smile, and he responded in kind, adding: "But at the core, both the NCR and the Free Zone share the same values. It is only right and sensible to unite against a common threat."

"I could not have said it better myself!" Jessica said. Kimball's smile widened. Moore nodded in agreement. General Oliver's lip twisted in distaste.

"So what's the plan?" Jessica asked.

General Lee Oliver finally spoke, "Our allied forces will push east, unite with the Mid-Western Brotherhood of steel, and drive Caesar's Legion into the sea."

"And what's to become of the Free Zone when we're surrounded by the NCR?" Jessica asked.

"It will remain the Free Zone." Kimball promised, "Trusted and valued Allies of the NCR. We will share all resources, both military and civilian, and work together to build a brighter future.

"This is where you come in, Jessica." Mister House told her, "For a vast campaign like that, we need a symbol. A superweapon around which we can unite all three forces. A weapon to inspire fear in the enemy and the will to fight in our own soldiers."

Jessica laughed, "I'm a negotiator, not a warrior."

"Take a hold of your ego, Miss Chase." House reprimanded shortly. General Oliver snickered.

"You aren't the weapon." House told her shortly, "Hidden in a secret laboratory built into the very foundations of the Pentagon is the very superweapon we need. A robot called Liberty Prime."

"How do you know that?" Jessica asked.

"Because I built it." House answered.

"And I'm to cross Legion territory to retrieve it?"

"We're going to help." Kimball explained eagerly.

"We're giving you ten of our long-range vertibirds, as well as the assistance of a full platoon of NCR desert Rangers." General Oliver grunted, "Thirty fighting men in all. Your mission is to retrieve this robot and bring it safely back to McCarran base."

"Jessica," House added, "According to our latest intelligence, the Pentagon is occupied by a small number of Brotherhood soldiers. To our knowledge, they are embroiled in a twenty-year war with an equally inconsequential band of supermutants. Taking the Robot may upset them, but you do what you have to do. If our plan succeeds, they will be crushed beneath Calhoun's sandalled feet regardless."

* * *

One week later Jessica stood patiently on the parade square of Camp McCarren, enjoying the Mojave dawn. She was flanked by her two friends, a tall, awkward blond man in a lab coat and thick-rimmed glasses, and an auburn haired woman wearing a straw rattan cowboy hat.

"Qui audet adipiscitur." The man muttered quietly, hand planted easily on his plasma pistol.

"You and your made-up words, Gannon..." Rose of Sharon Cassidy shook her head, lifting up her hunting rifle, leaning it over her shoulder.

Arcade shot her a dirty look. "It's latin, for-"

"He who dares, wins." Jessica finished.

Before them, in the centre of the parade square, sat three hulking vertibirds, each one three times the size of the regular flying machines. Sixty NCR troops in their signature Brodie helmets were loading the vertibirds with stacks upon stacks of crates and cargo. Beyond them, Jessica could see the column of thirty NCR desert rangers in full armor, stock still.

"I'm sure if some of them helped out, we'd be loaded much faster." Gannon observed.

Cass shrugged. "Typical NCR." She reached into the rucksack which was leaning against her knee, and produced a small bottle of whiskey.

"We're not exactly helping either." Jessica replied evenly as her friend popped the cork and took a long swig.

"How long are we supposed to be there?" Cass asked, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

"If you'd been awake during the briefing this morning you would have notice that it's 2400 miles to Washington, DC." Arcade said testily.

"Why would I be awake when I can snooze and simply get all the info from you after?"

"Maximum flight velocity of those vertibirds is two-hundred and seventy-five miles per hour. That's…" his lips moved silently as he calculated, "around nine hours flight time. Give or take…"

"We get in, we grab the Robot, we get out." Jessica said firmly. "Four days. Five maximum. By the time the Legion catches up, we're already thousands of feet in the air, towing the damned thing back to House."

"You mean back to the NCR?" Arcade asked quietly.

Jessica smiled innocently, watching the bustling soldiers. "Isn't that what I said?"

"Five days." Cassidy said.

"Assuming nothing goes wrong…" Arcade added.

"How could anything go wrong?" Cass asked, grinning slyly, "We have the big strong NCR here to protect us."

One of the big strong, overly-muscled NCR soldiers was approaching them now. Jessica recognized him as the grizzled commander of the desert rangers. He had a massive jutting chin, beady eyes, and an astounding neolithic browline. He had been sitting in the early morning briefing, straight as a plank, and by Jessica's estimation, about as dense. He drew himself to a halt in front of them, standing firmly at attention.

"Ma'am. I'm Lieutenant Buck Savage, Third Platoon, Fifth Force Recon Company. I'll be commanding Alpha and Bravo Squads during the expedition.

"Yes, we saw you at the briefing." Cassidy said, a little too jovially.

Arcade gave him a friendly nod.

Jessica opened with a smile and gave him a hearty handshake. "A pleasure, Lieutenant. We're very relieved that you and your well-trained men-"

"Aaand women," Cass added.

"-and women-" she continued without missing a beat, "-are coming with us."

He gave her a terse, but not unfriendly nod. "Just stay behind us and follow orders, Ma'am. We'll see you through."

"Absolutely."

He pointed towards the veritbirds, "you may board Vertibird Valiant now. It's fully loaded. Get dug in."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Jessica said sweetly.

His mouth twitched into a smile for just a moment, then it returned to its default dead-eyed calm. He turned on his heel and marched back to his platoon.

"Bwaaah Oh my fucking god…" Cassidy exclaimed, starting to laugh the moment he was out of earshot.

"Behave yourself." Jessica chided gently. She reached down to her small pack and raised it to her shoulder. Beside her, Arcade was doing the same for his gear and medical supplies.

"Buck Savage?"Cassidy cackled. _"BUCK SAVAGE?"_

"I can think of worse names." Arcade said, grinning despite himself.

"May we board your vertibird, Lieutenant Brick Chesthair?" Jessica said.

"Flint Ironknob." Arcade added.

"Chuck Gruntlarge." Cassidy exclaimed.

"Plank Slabhorn!"

"Dick RibRattle!"

"Grub Steakbottom!"

"Beef Chunkfist!"

"I always liked a man in uniform." Arcade mused wiping his eyes as they crossed the tarmac.

Cass grinned. "You an' me both… unless his name is Gronk McSquatthrust."

" _Especially_ if his name is McSquatthrust." Arcade waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Okay okay, stop, you guys." Jessica ordered, trying to contain her grin. They were at the Vertibird ramp, and a few of the NCR regulars were giving them odd looks.

The interior of the plan was dark and dingy and packed with supplies of all kinds including the massive black cables for lifting and hauling Liberty Prime. Each one was as thick as Jessica's arm.

Outside the vertibird, orders were being called out, and the strict rows of rangers began to filter off into two groups, each one marching for the vertibirds

The curved walls were lined with poorly padded seats. Jessica chose one near the front of the Vertibird and stowed her travel pack in the netting above her head. It contained some food, a change of clothes, a few stimpacks and medical supplies, and ammunition for her .45 calibre pistol, named A Light Shining in the Darkness.

Cassidy and Arcade took up station to either side, stowing their own gear. All three dug out their Caravan decks.

"Hey, Jessica," Cassidy said.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for finally bringing us along on one of your side-adventures."

"You might find yourself eating those words, Cass." Arcade said.

Jessica genuinely hoped not. But in her experience, nothing like this ever quite went according to plan.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The nine hours went by slowly. In the beginning, Jessica had peered out through the small round window, watching the brown and grey world turn slowly far beneath their feet. She found herself mesmerized by how high they were off the ground, and how small and different everything looked. Canyons, mountains, and forests became blots of color and texture in an unending ocean of scarred brown earth. She wondered how often pre-war travelers had flown, and whether they took for granted the miraculous nature of the experience.

Eventually, however, the novelty had worn off, and her attentions were attracted back to the interior of the vertibird. She, Cassidy, and Arcade passed some time playing Caravan. First with eachother, then with a few of the NCR Rangers, most of whom had been silent, or muttering quietly to one another.

Jessica, for the first time in a long time, was very nearly beaten at cards by a clever soldier with a solid deck of sixes, eights, and tens, but she managed to scrape a win by working around him and using her facecards to discard entire caravan piles, to the general entertainment of the crowd. Eventually that died as well. Boredom overtook her and she got as comfortable as she could, planted Boone's First Recon beret over her eyes, and nodded off to sleep, lulled by the steady whir of the rotors, and the comforting hum of the engines.

Several hours later, she felt a hand on her shoulder, stirring her to wakefulness. She clumsily reach up and pulled Boone's beret off, gripping it tightly in her fist. Lieutenant Savage was staring down at her with his beady little eyes. "Ma'am, we should be entering Capital airspace shortly."

"Thank Christ." Cassidy exclaimed.

Jessica yawned and stretched, feeling her joints click as they moved for the first time in hours. Savage let go of her shoulder and moved up towards the cockpit.

Jessica glanced out the window and saw only darkness, "What are we flying over?"

"Passed West Virginia around an hour ago." Arcade told her.

"Anything interesting down there?"

"Nope." Cass said.

"Human beings were not meant to sit for this long at once." Arcade said, rising to his feet to stretch his legs.

Jessica turned and peered out the porthole again. The sky outside was a deep, dark shade of blue, dancing with shimmering stars, and she could see nothing but blackness beneath them.

"In, then out." She said, exchanging a smile with her companions. She could hear Savage speaking to the pilot, so rose to her feet and tiptoed through the crates and supplies, following the lieutenant through a small open door into the cockpit.

"What's happening?"

"Take a seat, ma'am." Savage instructed, waving her away,

"Sure." Jessica planted herself down on a spare seat behind the pilot. Savage gave her a dry glare. She smiled sweetly.

"I meant back in the cargo hold." He told her. "You're just a guest, Ma'am. How about you let us do our jobs."

"I'm just here to help, Lieutenant. She assured him amiably.

A speaker squawked to life, and static filled the cockpit. Yet hidden within the white noise were perceptible patterns. Gibberish, but very close to human speech. The copilot shifted excitedly, twisting various knobs and dials across the wide console. "Lieutenant, we're picking up a radio signal."

"Let's hear it." Savage said.

After a moment of adjustment, a wonderful baritone voice filled the cockpit. _"Wheeeel hello Children. This is your host, Three-Dog! And I'm bringing you the Truth, no matter how bad it hurts."_

"Three Dog?" Savage frowned.

"Maybe a prewar thing?" the pilot asked.

"Sounds new." Jessica said.

" _Now just a friendly reminder, children: We've come a looong way. But as our fearless Leader says, we've got a whole lot more ta go. We may have survived the mutie horde, but the Enclave, yao guai, radscorpions, deathclaws… they're all still alive and a'kickin'. Worst of all, that Bringer of Sorrow, that Consort of Discord, that Instrument of Ruin, that Agent of Chaos – Jason Howlett – The Lone Wanderer is still at large._

 _Now children, I know, I know: some of you are still on the fence about that so-called Man and his so-called Legacy. Don't worry: the Leader doesn't blame you. You were scared! You- you were desperate! And in your desperation you turned to the one creature we need to purge from this earth! I did too. I did too. But Children, we have to accept a simple truth: If this Great Nation of ours is ever going to flourish. If it's truly going to rise, we need to rid ourselves of the Garbage of the Apocalypse. That includes the super-human Child of the Atom. As the Leader says, the Wasteland is for Humanity, and for Humanity alone. Stay strong, Children. And stay informed on Vox radio!"_

With that, the voice was gone, replaced with the dulcet tones of the Ink Spots' "I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire"

Silence fell over the cockpit.

Jason Howlett… the name sounded vaguely familiar.

"Local politics." Savage grunted, "Let's not get involved. Shut it off."

The copilot obeyed and silence fell across the vertibird's interior.

"In my experience it often pays to know a little bit about a situation." Jessica said mildly.

"Did not ask for your input." The Lieutenant grunted.

"Just trying to help." Jessica replied.

"Uhh… Lieutenant?" the pilot said nervously as something on his console started to ping.

"Look, I didn't ask for you to be on this mission." Savage said shortly. "Just let us do our jobs and you'll get home safe."

Jessica heard Cass cough in the adjoining cargo bay, and knew the soldier's statement had been heard. "Lieutenant, my team had I have a wealth of experience in these sorts of situations and I am a diplomat. It might be best if we work together…"

"Lieutenant?"

Savage held up a finger to silence Jess, and turned back to the pilot. "What?"

"We've got incoming!"

The bottom of Jessica's stomach dropped out as the pilot took sudden evasive action, iddping and swerving to the left – or was it to port? Either way, Savage grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her back into her seat. The darkness outside was lit up by tracer rounds, and she could hear swearing and yelling as the back of their vertibird was peppered with 5mm minigun ammunition.

"What the hell's happening?" Savage yelled, fighting to his own seat, even as Jessica fumbled to strap herself in. he was doing the same for himself.

"We're taking fire," the pilot replied over the ringing of the bullets, "thank god these VTOL things come with thick armour!"

No sooner had he spoken then a louder bang rang out, and the interior was filled with a sudden draft. The window in front of the copilot turned bright red and he slumped forward onto his controls. Alarms began bleating loudly and the entire vertibird lurched to the right, pitching into a spiral.

"Get it under control!" Savage ordered as the pilot struggled with his joystick.

"I can't!" he shouted as another louder shot rang out, blowing out several window panel in front of her. In the rear of the vertibird, Jessica could hear Cass swearing her head off.

There was another mechanical noise and a puff of electrical sparks from one of the veritbird's rotors. The vehicle began spinning rapidly, descending towards the earth at high speed. The inertia sucked at Jessica, pulling her from her seat, even as her straps kept her in place. There was more screaming and confusion in the rear and she could hear the sounds of straps breaking and containers crashing and banging around the interior of the vehicle. The wind blowing through the smashed windshield blinded her and sucked the air from her lungs.

The last thing she heard was the pilot shouting, "Brace for impact!"

* * *

Sunlight shone brightly through her closed eyelids. Jessica groaned and shifted, trying to open her eyes, but the sun shone abnormally bright. She reached up with her left hand to try and shield her face against its heat and glare, but grimaced as her elbow and shoulder both checked in, registering extreme pain.

She tried to rise, but could feel the safety harness holding her in place. On top of that, her entire body lit up with a horrendous ache.

She forced her eyes open. The nose of the Vertibird was buried in hot, dry, dusty sand, which had poured into the cockpit through the smashed canopy. Breathing in the dust caused Jessica to cough violently, which only made her chest hurt even more.

Both pilots were slumped over their controls, immobile. The co-pilot had a giant black hole between his shoulder blades. Savage was there as well, one eye was staring into space with an empty dead look. Most of the rest of his face was missing entirely.

Well not missing… just spread across that side of the cockpit. A fair amount was spread across her head and chest as well.

With her right arm, Jessica fished in the pocket of her Courier duster for the switchblade she always kept there. It came in useful – mostly for cutting food during meals, but sometimes she used it for lockpicking in lieu of a flat head screwdriver.

She nearly fumbled it with sore, aching fingers, but managed to keep her grip and snap it open. She sawed awkwardly at her safety harness until it tore through and she was able to shrug it off. She gingerly slid sideways off of the seat and onto the dusty floor of the crashed aircraft, battling with her own protesting joints as she rolled onto her stomach.

The backend of the aircraft was wide open, and she could see out along a lengthy trench of blackened soil. Her head spun and a wave of nausea halted her progress, and she shut her eyes, resting her head against the cool deck.

She lost herself momentarily in a fog, but it passed as quickly as it came, and she opened her eyes again to take stock.

There were several dead NCR rangers still strapped into their seats. Cass and Arcade were both missing, as were seven to ten of the rangers and most of the gear. Her pack was missing as well, and there was no sign whatsoever of any of the supply boxes which the NCR had spent all the previous morning packing.

God… the NCR… down a vertibird and a half-dozen troops already…

How were they even going to tow the robot back without three?

No matter… one step at a time.

Knowing how the NCR trained and outfitted their desert rangers, Jessica scrambled on her knees and one elbow over to the nearest corpse. She planted her working arm on the seat and pushed herself upwards so she could collapse on the bench beside her target. The effort left her breathless and exhausted, and her chest flared up with stingin pain whenever she breathed too deeply. Her left arm was worse than useless and she kept it tucked into her side as she searched the small survival pack which she knew was attached to the duster of every NCR desert ranger.

This particular one had been slit open on the side, and emptied.

She began to notice other small details, such as the footprints in the dust, and the garbage which was strewn across the inside of the aircraft. She felt a cold tingle creep down her spine as she realized that someone had already pilfered the downed vertibird and stripped it of anything useful.

That was when she heard the footsteps. Multiple people tramping their way towards her, hidden from view. Harsh voices reached her ears.

"Ah'm telling ya, Bloodbeard, the Vox already bin ovah dis crash site. We gotta move, man! We can't be heyah when da Talon Company or dah Enclave show up. Why ah we doin' dis?"

Jessica reached down for her sidearm and realized that it was missing too. She swore quietly and grabbed her switchblade instead, hiding it in her sleeve.

"Shaddap Lagbolt!" a deeper voice answered, "Just keep an eye out, eh? Dey always miss sumfin!"

A silhouette blocked the rear entrance. Jessica could make out a Mohawk and a combat shotgun. He was dressed in rags.

A fiend? What were fiends doing out east? No matter – drugs and violence were their stock and trade, and they weren't very bright. Easy levers to pull to for an even moderately resourceful wanderer. Jessica just had to survive the first thirty seconds.

The figure edged into the interior, the tip of his shotgun leading the way, freezing when he spotted Jessica, who remained as motionless as possible, leaning against the NCR corpse.

"Help me…" she whispered hoarsely.

"Uhh… boss?" the fiend called out. She could see his face, lit faintly by the light coming through the vertibird's broken canopy. He had blond hair and a pair of lovely blue eyes. He was watching her with a sort of dull curiosity, hid mouth hanging open. Jessica could tell by the looseness of his movements and the glazed expression on his face that he was high on something. Probably Med-X, as most other drugs made people more aggressive.

"Whatcha found, Tadpole?" called the deeper voice.

"There's a live one." The man raised his combat shotgun. "Don't you fuckin' move!"

"Haha I told ya they always leave sumthin behind!" the deep voice hooted. The light was blocked again by a second larger shape; naked from the waist-up save for an enormous bandoleer. The man had broad shoulders with scraggly hair and a bushy red beard, stained with ichor. He saw Jessica and froze.

"Holy sheeyat!" he looked her up and down with hungry eyes, taking in her pale skin, and soft, sweeping curtain of dark hair. He pushed Tadpole to the ground as he bulled forwards. As if a dam had collapsed, Jessica felt an old, familiar fear wash through her. As one who spent most of her time on the Strip, it was easy to forget how uncivilized parts of the world could be. Men wanted her. That was the reality of being beautiful. Usually it meant free drinks and an attentive, pliable audience. But far from civilization it meant something very different, and far more sinister.

The man named Bloodbeard was against her, lifting her by the shoulders and fumbling with his belt.

"Let me go!" Jessica ordered as he pressed her up against the bulkhead. His breath was hot and foul against her neck. _"Don't touch me!"_ Jessica normally kept far better control of her ability, but the words slipped out, borne of desperation and fear. That is not what the raider heard, though. Her voice threatened untold horrors and unimaginable pain. Bloodbeard suddenly leapt backwards like a scalded cat and stared at her in shock, even as she fell back against the seat, cough, and curling up defensively.

"Well…" he said uncertainly, "well fuck you, then!" face twisting in rage, he wrenched the combat shotgun from Tadpole's unresisting grasp and turned it on Jessica.

"Shoot me and you'll never know where the other Vertibird is!" she snapped.

Very slowly, his finger loosened from the trigger he had been pulling. The raider stared down the barrel of the combat shogun at her. "What are you sayin'?"

"There were three of us." She explained. "The other two… they have chems. Guns." _All ripe for the taking…_ "I know where they're going…"

Bloodbeard hesitated a moment longer, glancing from her to Tadpole and back.

Jessica smiled at him. "Let's make a deal, Bloodbeard. You help me, and I help you."

Tadpole was tasked with helping her to her feet. Still wearing a wide-eyed, red-cheeked expression of awe, the young raider shared some putrid brown water with her. He put her good arm carefully around his shoulder. His touch was surprisingly gentle and light, and wherever she touched him, she left goosebumps. Noting his growing infatuation, Jessica let her fingers wander a little, caressing his shoulder whenever Bloodbeard wasn't looking in their direction, and gently massaging his neck and back. His eyes went half-lidded in response, and after a short time a goofy grin had spread across his face. Every so often, Jessica would shoot him a teasing, encouraging smile.

Bloodbeard had retrieved Boone's beret from the floor of the vertibird and slipped it onto his head. It bothered Jessica immensely to see that item being pressed into service of someone so vile, but she said nothing.

With Tadpole's assistance, she limped out of the vertibird and into the light of day. A third raider was standing above the trench, hunting rifle in hand. He was a tall, sharp-eyed man with a bright blue goatee.

"Who's dis?"

"Just a prisoner, Lagbolt."

"She's pretty."

"We got a deal worked out." Bloodbeard grunted. "No touching." He turned back and shoved a finger in Jessica's face. "You better not be fucking with us, Cunt!"

"Wouldn't dream of it." Jessica replied, noting the quiet anger in Tadpole's eyes.

They climbed to the top of the crater, Tadpole doing most of the heavy lifting, and Jessica was finally able to see where she was.

The wind carried a foul, chemical smell, and the Geiger counter on her pipboy ticked quietly for a few seconds. Everything the sunlight touched seemed to be permeated with a brown and green glow. Craters and canyons scarred the landscape for miles, and Jessica could see copses of thick dead trees.

Crumbled buildings dotted the countryside, some large and some small. She could see collapsed overpasses with piles of rusted cars. Sections of road criss-crossed the wasteland, leading from nowhere to nowhere. Beyond it all, on the horizon was a city, with hundreds – thousands of buildings, each of them the size of a New Vegas casino. Their windows were blown out and they seemed to lean against each other as if they could barely support their own weight.

Somewhere in there was House's robot, Liberty Prime.

Jessica wondered where Cass and Arcade were, and whether or not they were okay. She hoped so, but she had more pressing problems.

The combat shotgun pressed into her back. Behind her, Bloodbeard grunted. "Get moving."

One problem at a time.

* * *

 **For those who want to catch up, Pro Posterus is a shorter Fallout story I wrote a while ago to introduce the Courier, Jessica. I'm looking forward to seeing how her Speech/Barter/Charisma heavy power set plays out in the Capital Wasteland where Violence is king.**

 **What is it with me leaving my main characters lost and alone in a hostile environment? I'd like to believe I'm not a one-trick pony, but I seem to favor a few tropes very heavily.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The raiders' hideout, if it could be called that, was a small townhome on a lonely hillock. Most of the walls were missing, and a ramshackle second story had been constructed using rusted metal and wooden panels. It was accessible through a single ramp which stretched out behind the building.

The ground floor had been dug into a pit around three feet deep, which the raiders all rested in. it contained five rotten mattresses and a set of six lockers with a small campfire at the very centre. The entire place stank of sweat and rot. Meat sacks hung from chains at every corner of the dwelling, dripping slowly and staining the ground beneath.

As they approached, two more raiders exited to meet them. Both were women, one with dark hair and a ragged shirt, and the other with blonde pigtails and a bra made from mininuke parts. They both had crazy eyes and a spaced-out look which suggested heavy drug use. The blonde one sidled up to Bloodbeard and gave him a long, passionate kiss. The other greeted Lagbolt with a similar reaction. Both of them avoided Tadpole completely, giving him nothing more than dirty glances. He drew a little closer to Jessica.

The blonde one who had attached herself to Bloodbeard reached up and snatched Boone's beret from his head. "What's this?"

"A present for you." the leader told her as she wrapped herself around him. She gave Jessica a thorough look. Her voice was high-pitched and grating on the ears. "Who's she?"

"I'm Jessica." The Courier introduced herself, "It's a pleasure to-"

"Shut yer facehole! She's a prisoner," Bloodbeard explained shortly, "Where's my fucking Jet, bitch?"

"Fuck you, that's where!" the female raider answered resentfully.

"In your locker where it always is, bro." Lagbolt said.

Bloodbeard turned on him immediately, "An' how the fuck do you know that, huh?"

"Ain't no secret. Ain't no secret." Lagbolt held up his hands in surrender.

"I'll get it!" sang the dark-haired woman.

The blonde reacted immediately, rushing after the brunette. "Don'tcha fuckin' touch it! It's Bloodbeard's Jet and Bloodbeard is my man! I'll get it!"

"Niether of ya touch it or I'll kill ya both!" Bloodbeard howled, launching himself after them.

"Bloodbeard likes 'is jet." Tadpole observed.

"Shut up, dipshit." Lagbolt replied.

"He does, doesn't he?" Jessica agreed thoughtfully, giving Tadpole an appraising look. _Who's a smart man?_

"You shut up, too!" Lagbolt ordered, yanking roughly on her arm. "We don't know yeh, so you shut the hell up." Jessica met his sharp eyes and directed her gaze submissively towards the ground.

Tadpole entered the pit before Jessica and reached up to grab her, but Lagbolt was standing behind her and kicked her in. Jessica cried out as she landed, her sore ribs flaring up, along with pretty much everything else.

"Hey!" Tadpole began to protest, but Lagbolt raised his rifle and the younger raider shut his mouth resentfully.

Jessica shuffled up to the pit wall and leaned against it, letting the pain die down a little.

Tadpole crouched beside her. "Ya want some water?"

"I need a stim pack." Jessica said, coughing and clutching her side.

Across the pit, Bloodbeard was taking puff after puff from his jet inhaler. "Ya ain't fucking getting nothing!" he roared.

"What are we gonna do with her, boss?" Lagbolt demanded as he jumped down into the pit with the rest of them.

Bloodbeard settled back on his mattress, and the blonde-haired woman crawled up beside him, laying her head against his chest and glaring at Jessica.

"I'm thinkin'." Bloodbeard said.

"We can't keep her."

"I'm Thinkin." Bloodbeard murmured, his eyes drifting shut.

"We ain't got much food and water. If she ain't gonna tell us where the other vertibirds are, I say we off her!"

Bloodbeard's eyes snapped open and he snarled at Lagbolt, "Fuck off!"

Lagbolt threw up his hands in defeat. He gave Jessica one last glance, and moved up to the second level of the shack, gripping his hunting rifle tightly.

Time passed. Jessica watched the raiders carefully, observing their little ecosystem. Lagbolt was by far the smartest of them, though that wasn't saying much. He stood on the second level, watching the wasteland and throwing the occasional withering look down at Bloodbeard.

The dark-haired raider woman pulled a body out of a smashed cupboard and proceeded to take it to pieces with a dull kitchen knife, hacking off the limbs and stuffing them into a sack. She seemed to delight in the amount of blood and gore her activity was leaving behind. Jessica filed her under the title of torturer and probably resident cook.

"She's Knut," Tadpole whispered in Jessica's ear, "real good wiv knives…"

Jessica's attention turned to the blonde woman. She was still lying against Bloodbeard, and was watching Knut carefully, like a cat, twitching at the slightest movements, and keeping a tight hold of Bloodbeard.

Paranoid. Jealous.

Jessica wondered what her place was in the strange little family until – in full view of everyone – Bloodbeard awoke from his drug-induced haze just long enough to mount her. His grunts and her giggles echoed around the building for all of forty five seconds until he collapsed back into the mattress and started snoring, trapping her underneath him.

"Dat's Vixen. She's da bosses. And da boss is hers. Don't touch da boss or she'll gut ya."

"Thank you, Tadpole." Jessica said, keeping her voice low and a little bit husky, "You're so helpful…" she smiled at him and he grinned back, showing a mouthful of rotting teeth. He held up a finger and crept very quietly over to a nearby crate, where he rummaged inside, producing a stimpack and a small bottle of something labelled Aqua Pura.

He crept back, quietly handing both items over to her, watching Lagbolt up above as he did so, but the raider's attention was focused out into the wasteland. Knut was occupied with her… hobby, and Vixen and Bloodbeard were otherwise engaged. No one was watching them.

Jessica took the stimpack first and injected it into her side, feeling immediate relief as the pain subsided. The PHOENIX Monocyte Implants helped a little, but nothing equated to the immediate relief of a stimpack injection. She felt the familiar rush of warmth through her system and moaned gently, a small smile touching her lips.

She opened her eyes to find Tadpole watching her with hungry eyes, taking in every one of her movements with a sense of awe and adoration. She wondered when the last time he'd seen a person he wasn't actively trying to murder was.

"Where am I?" Jessica opened the bottle of Aqua Pura and to her delight discovered that it was cool, clear, pure blue water. The best she had ever tasted.

"Dis is our house."

"I mean… all of this…" Jessica motioned at the desert beyond their little pit.

"Dis is da Capital Wasteland."

"Tell me about it."

"It's… big. Hot. Dangerous."

"Mmhmm?" Jessica's idle gaze fell on the jet inhaler which had fallen from Bloodbeard's limp hand onto the dirt floor. She looked up at Lagbolt, who was cleaning his hunting rifle, and chewed her lip thoughtfully.

"Dere's Megaton off in dat way." Tadpole exclaimed, pointing clumsily behind Jessica's head, desperate for her attention. "Built in a bomb crater. It's got big, big walls. Too big for us to raid."

"Megaton…" Jessica repeated thoughtfully, gracing him with another smile.

"Uh huh. Uh huh. And off in the southeast is Rivet City in a big big boat."

"And who runs Rivet City?"

"Dunno…" tadpole scratched his head, and a few flakes drifted down into the dirt.

"Tell me about Vox…" the word had popped up twice in the few conscious hours she had spent in the wasteland.

"Dey're new. Come since da war ended…"

Jessica frowned, keen with interest. "War? What war?"

"Oi, dipshit!" Lagbolt yelled from on high. He was staring down at them from the second floor. "Shut the fuck up!"

Tadpole scurried away, and Jessica was left alone. Once again, her gaze fell on the discarded jet inhaler as a plan began to take shape.

* * *

Night had fallen, and the embers of the campfire had burned to a soft warm glow. Jessica had not moved since she had first sat down. Lagbolt had spent the rest of the day sitting on a chair on the second level, staring down at her, with his rifle across his knees. The message was clear: if she tried to run, she wouldn't make it ten meters before a bullet found her back. Tadpole had tried to crawl back to her several times but each time, Lagbolt had shooed him away.

That was okay. Jessica was a patient woman, and she had no intention of running. She could feel the weight of the switchblade in her sleeve. They had not found it yet, and in a way, she felt like hiding it somewhere else. Burying it or something. It was probably a bigger danger to her than if she had no weapons at all: they would kill her immediately if they found it.

She waited, checking every ten minutes to see if Lagbolt was awake. To his credit, he managed to watch her for a good few hours into the night before he finally drifted off in his chair.

Bloodbeard was still out cold, as was Vixen, curled up beside him. Knut had wandered off into the wasteland with her assault rifle, and occasionally in the distance, Jessica could hear the rat-a-tat-tat as she unloaded on some poor creature.

Once again, she was alone… with Tadpole.

A regular person would have perhaps been worried by the prospect of being taken captive by a gang of crazy murderous raiders, but Jessica had long ago learned that all problems in life were people problems, and solving people problems was all about levers. It was about wants and needs.

Bloodbeard wanted Jet. As leader, he needed to keep his head on his shoulders.

Vixen wanted Bloodbeard all to herself – only god knew why... However, like her lover also needed to not fly off the handle at the slightest provocation.

Knut wanted violence. And she was with Lagbolt. That suited Jessica just fine.

Lagbolt wanted his raider gang to think and plan ahead. Or at least just think. Period. What he needed was a team which agreed with his life philosophy.

And poor Tadpole, the intellectual runt of the litter, wanted a friend. Even more, he wanted a lover. What he needed was someone he could trust not to take advantage of him.

All in all, a volatile mix.

It was just a matter of pulling the right lever…

Keeping one eye on Lagbolt, Jessica picked up a small stone and tossed it at Tadpole, who was curled up nearby, clutching his combat shotgun. He shifted and murmured in his sleep.

Jessica rolled her eyes, and tossed another pebble. It took two more before he finally woke up.

Of course, the first thing he did was look around to see if she was still there.

Jessica gave him a twisted, secretive smile. She held a finger to her lips and beckoned him over.

He moved gingerly, watching Lagbolt just as she was, and when he was beside her, she leaned in so that her lips were right up against his ear. She rested a hand against his knee.

"I've got a game to play…"

"Uh huh…" the rider seemed stunned that she was touching him.

"I want you to sneaky sneak across to Bloodbeard's locker…"

"That's-"

"Shh…" her lips brushed his ear, "I'm not done yet… I want you to take Bloodbeard's Jet and put it into Lagbolt's locker. Can you do that for me?"

Tadpole leaned back and gave her a serious look. "That's… that's bad."

Jessica's hand traveled a small amount up his thigh and she smiled at him. "It'll be our little secret. A prank."

"Just a joke?"

"Just a joke, Tad…" _A harmless joke…_

"Well… okay." Tadpole said uncertainly. He crept across the pit, passing carefully by Bloodbeard's mattress, and rose to his feet to reach into the lockers. The door creaked gently as it opened, and Bloodbeard stirred in his sleep. Tadpole froze and for a moment, Jessica thought he might have lost his nerve, but he opened it regardless and pulled out a small sack full of jet, moving it two lockers over.

He crept back and settled in beside her.

Jessica grinned at him. "Good job!"

He smiled. "It'll be funny in the morning!"

"Shhh. Let's go to sleep now." She waved him off and he obeyed, curling up with his combat shotgun.

* * *

In the morning they awoke to an almighty roar.

"Where's my fuckin' jet?" Bloodbeard was on his feet, running around the campsite in a fury. "Where is it? Where's my jet?"

"What are you talking about, bro?" Lagbolt was already awake and up on the top level, but he dropped down into the pit to investigate.

"My Jet's gone!"

"Okay calm down. Let's just look for it."

"Who took it?" Bloodbeard searched their faces. Jessica was wearing her usual innocent look, and was sitting in the same place he had last seen her. Tadpole was crouched nearby wearing a look of terror. Vixen was distressed because Bloodbeard was upset, and Knut was off to the side, using her cleaver to carve up a radroach, presumably for breakfast. She was watching with an air of disinterest.

"No one took it!" Lagbolt exclaimed in exasperation.

Bloodbeard ignored him and began to root around their small hovel, tearing apart crates and boxes, and overturning matresses.

"It ain't us, bro!" Lagbolt protested as the bearded raider approached the lockers. He opened Tadpole's, then Knut's, then Vixens, then finally Lagbolt's.

Bloodbeard froze, his back to the raiders.

"No one took it!" Lagbolt insisted.

Shaking with rage, Bloodbead reached in and pulled out the bag.

Lagbolt fell silent under his leader's glare.

"I knew it!" Bloodbeard snarled.

"Whoa, now hold on just a second!"

"You was always chirpin' at me about it. I knew you was eyein' it…"

"I wasn't eyein' nuthin!" Lagbolt assured him. "This is just a misunderstandin'. There's been a mistake." He glanced around the camp for support, but everyone was watching in silence.

"You think yer smarter'n me? Huh?" Bloodbeard shoved Lagbolt to the ground and held up his fist. "You ain't smarter than me! You ain't the leader!"

"I didn't take yer jet, dumbass!" Lagbolt argued. His suspicious gaze fell on Jessica. "It was her somethin's wrong wiv her!"

"Don't cha try an' trick me. You bin eyein' my stash for ages!"

The two raiders began to tussle. For Lagbolt, it wasn't serious – just letting off steam, but for Bloodbeard, it was life and death. He pinned the smaller raider to the ground and began to pound on him. Ten seconds in, Lagbolt stopped struggling. A minute into the beating his feet stopped twitching. By the time Bloodbeard was done with him, there wasn't enough left of his face to recognize him.

"Oh no…" Tadpole moaned, clutching his combat shotgun to his chest.

Knut let out an anguished screech and charged at Bloodbeard, cleaver raised above her head. She was intercepted by Vixen, who tackled her to the ground. There was a second tussle and an ugly schlucking noise as Knut pinned the younger woman to the ground and drove the cleaver through her chest.

Enraged, Bloodbeard charged in, pulling out the cleaver and driving it deep into Knut's protesting face. She dropped to the ground, toes twitching.

Bloodbeard turned on Jessica and Tadpole.

Jessica rose to her feet, back against the wall. "He's going to kill us, Tad!"

Tadpole whimpered as the larger raider approached them.

"Tadpole, he's going to kill me!" Jessica screamed, holding up her hands in self defense.

"Raaaagh!" Bloodbeard rushed at them, waving the cleaver.

"Tadpole, _kill_ _him_!" Jessica ordered.

There was a blaat from the combat shotgun and Bloodbeard's head blew out sideways, spattering the wall beside him. He fell to the ground, stone dead.

Tadpole whimpered quietly, eyes wide as he surveyed the carnage. "They're all dead."

"It's okay. You did good, Tadpole." Jessica whispered, sidling up to lean against him. She planted her chin on his shoulder and ran her hand slowly up his back to run through his hair. "You did very good, Tadpole." Her other hand drifted down his arm and gently prised away his combat shotgun.

"Dey was my family…"

"Uh huh." Jessica dropped the shotgun behind her back and flicked her switchblade out of her sleeve.

Tadpole, turned to her, grief-stricken. "I didn't want dis! I didn't mwan for dis to happen…"

"Look into my eyes, Tadpole: Everything's going to be fine." Jessica assured him, raising her hand. He obeyed, looking deeply into her beautiful green eyes, even as she drove the switchblade deep into the side of his throat, dragging it across roughly, eve3n as his eyes bugged out. He snapped up and grabbed her hand but it was already too late; blood poured out of the open wound and down his chest, even as he stumbled backwards, trying to stem the flow. Jessica sighed and turned away, picking up the shotgun as he gurgled and groped blindly for something to save him.

She turned back around and emptied two shells into him to finish the job. As she surveyed the carnage araound her, she recalled something which House had once said: "You of all people know just how dangerous base urges can be, Jessica. Those who suffer from them are easily manipulated. Easily tricked. Easily bought. Easily sold… easily killed."

She slung the combat shotgun over her shoulder and began tearing the hovel apart, looting for ammo, stimpacks, and food. She found fresh water, a couple of stimpacks, a few dozen extra shotgun shells, and a bag stash of caps and hunting rifle ammunition which had obviously been Lagbolt's bug-out plan.

Armed with the combat shotgun and Lagbolt's hunting rifle, Jessica climbed her way out of the raider den and dusted herself off, staring across the open wasteland towards downtown D.C.. She placed Boone's beret back on her head where it belonged, and let out a long relieved breath. Time to find this 'Megaton', which Tadpole had mentioned.

* * *

 **I realize that the sequence with the raiders may have gone on a little long. Jason would have simply killed them all in seconds, but it was important to set up how Jessica handles a bad situation.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jessica crested a hillock near the charnel house in which the raiders had taken residence. Her Pipboy told her it was 5:30 in the morning, and the predawn light revealed a vast stretch of brown and grey wasteland to the east, with the outline of the occasional rusted water tower and tangle of dead trees, bent at a strange angles.

She wasn't used to rough terrain; Civilization in the New Vegas Free Economic Zone followed roads but here… here was wilderness and silence. Long stretches of space with nothing at all.

She started east, passing some electrical towers, and stepping carefully over fallen logs. A molerat waddled about nearby, digging holes in the ground and snuffling at the harsh grasses. It spared her a glance, but minded its own business, as did she. Jessica had always gotten along well with animals, and they seemed to generally leave her alone. They were almost cute when they weren't trying to kill anyone.

Further east she pass several grey, broken walls, barely chest high – denoting where buildings used to stand. She could see an old church, the roof of which had fallen in, and a set of railroad tracks, leading from a collapsed tunnel in the north into a ravine of some sort. An explosion and gunfire sounded in the distance, but she couldn't tell where it originated from, or what was going on, so she continued on her way.

Off in the far distance, an enormous bear-like creature with black skin and pale eyes was tromping around a copse of trees. The wind was constant, and as it blew dirt in her eyes, she could hear the Geiger counter on her pip boy sounding off. She came across a busted billboard – of which there were plenty in New Vegas – and an entire field of irradiated green muck puddles of a hue and viscosity she had never encountered before. She skirted carefully around the edge of the field, taking in the bombed out, empty homes which used to be a D.C. suburb.

She wondered as she walked where Cass and Arcade were, and whether or not they were okay. This place seemed inhospitable at best. Had they been taken? Had they left? Someone had gone through the vertibird crashsite for supplies. Jessica was fairly sure she was mistaken for dead, but Cass and Arcade wouldn't have made such an error. That meant they had either left in a hurry, or they had been taken captive by someone, somewhere. And she had led them here...

House's damned robot seemed far less important to Jessica than finding her friends and making sure they were okay.

Two hours of hiking had passed and she had not yet seen another living person. This was ridiculous! One couldn't walk anywhere in the Mojave without encountering _something_. She hadn't seen an area of the country this bad since the Sierra Madre.

…or the divide… she shut her eyes, trying not to think about Ulysses, and that giant wound he had devoted himself to guarding.

She was relieved when she heard human voices off to her right. Three armed men were climbing out of a nearby ravine she would have missed completely had she not heard them.

They were wearing black combat armour, and wielding combat shotguns and Chinese assault rifles. On their breastplates were white claw logos. Obviously part of some armed militia or mercenary group. Jessica slung her hunting rifle over her shoulder and approach with a smile.

"Morning, gentlemen!"

The head fighter, a weather-beaten man with a buzzcut and an assault rifle, spun around immediately, keeping his weapon raised as he assessed her. His eyes widened with shock as he took in her bright green eyes and easy-going smile.

The other two mercenaries – a pair of young men - took up station to either side of him. "Oh, what the shit?" "Who's the fuck is that?"

Why was everyone's language here so foul?

"Name and business." The leader ordered, keeping his gun trained on her. The other two were less cautious. One of them had lowered his weapon. The other was outwright ogling her.

"My name is Jessica. I'm just visiting from out of town." Jessica said lightly. "You?"

"We're with the Talon Company. What are you visiting?" the lead fighter asked.

"Megaton." She eyed them. "You wouldn't happen to be going that way, would you?"

"No." The man glanced at her pipboy. "Where'd you get that?"

"From a friend back west." Jessica glanced around. "What are you boys doing out here?"

"Searching for the Wanderer's stash!" the youngest man told her eagerly.

"Shut it, Spadge!" the leader barked. "We don't know who's side she's on."

"I try not to pick sides. Or fights, for that matter." She said pleasantly, "but I am a pretty good problem solver. I'll tell you what: let's make a deal."

"What kind of deal…?"

"I'll help you find this Wanderer guy's hideout, and in return you get me to Megaton."

The leader raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"I assure you, I can help." Jessica said confidently. "What do you know about his hideouts?" _What have you got to lose?_

"Uhh… we know he uses the radio towers somehow."

"We've been searching for like, days," said the youngest, "I'm Spadge, by the way!"

"Corporal Seamus." Said the third mercenary.

"Sergeant Booster." The leader shook her hand.

"A pleasure." Jessica smiled warmly at them.

Sergeant Booster pointed up at a nearby metal tower mounted with a satellite dish. "It's somewhere's around that thing. But we can't escort you anywhere."

"I have caps." Jessica offered.

All three men perked up. They were mercenaries, she decided; money didn't matter so much to soldiers. Talon Company Mercenaries.

"How much?" Sergeant Booster asked.

"Fifteen each?" Jessica said. She had not actually counted Lagbolt's stash, but she had cashed in enough chips at enough casinos to tell by weigh approximately how much the raider had: somewhere in the neighborhood of two-hundred. The trick to bartering: start low.

"One hundred each or no deal." Booster said.

Jessica smirked. "Twenty each."

The Sergeant shook his head. "Twenty? Are you kidding?"

"And I'll throw in a few… chems A few little goodies." Jessica rooted around in her pack and pulled out a Jet inhaler from Bloodbeard's collection. She noted the way Spadge's eyes widened.

"We ain't takin' that shit! Twenty caps? No way. C'mon boys. Let's get moving." Booster motioned up the hill to the radio tower.

Jessica addressed Spadge directly, noting the way his eyes followed the chems. "Hello, Spadge, is it? Your sergeant isn't interested. How about I just give you eighty caps and all the Jet I have, and you and I can go to Megaton together. Sounds good?"

"Hell Ma'am," Corporal Seamus said, "I'd escort you for ten more caps and no chems at all… you can sell them to the doc at Megaton for good money."

Spadge grinned and opened his mouth, reaching for the chem, but Booster cut him off, "whoa, now… don't be hasty. We can… all three of us… profit from this."

"All four of us," Jessica corrected genially, "I know I'd feel much safer with all three of you and your guns around me. This Wasteland is a dangerous place…"

"That it is." Booster agreed.

"Ninety for all of us." Seamus said.

"And the Chems." Spadge added.

"And you help us find the Wanderer's stash." Booster said.

Jessica grinned. "Lovely."

Even if the Sergeant broke the terms, she knew Spadge and Seamus would happily take all the money for themselves. She gestured towards the radio tower and let them lead her onwards.

* * *

Jessica stood on the road in the middle of the bombed out town. She planted her chin in her hand and stared up at the radio tower. "So it's near the tower?"

"Rumor has it. I wouldn't bother searching there though." Seamus said.

"We spent a whole day." Booster told her, "Already searched it. And circled the thing three times looking for a cave or something. It's gotta be in the town."

Jessica shut her eyes and sighed. "So… no."

"We're pretty sure." Spadge said.

"Kind sure." Seamus said.

"It's just supposed to be around the radio tower somewhere's. We've already searched in the buildings…" Booster said.

She kept her eyes closed and frowned. "Tell me about him."

"Who? The Wanderer?"

"Yeah. What does he look like?"

"What difference does that make?" Seamus asked.

"You can tell a lot about a person from how they look." Jessica said sagely, her eyes still closed, "Just… indulge me."

"Alright, here," Booster said, handed her a paper contract.

 _Boys and girls, we got ourselves The Lone Wanderer to put down. Here are the details:_

 _Name: Jason Howlett_

 _Race: Caucasian_

 _Sex: Male_

 _The bounty is $5,000 caps this time around, and for a change of pace, the Vox wants the freak's head._

"Not much in here." Jessica murmured, reading through the letter twice to absorb the information.

"I wish you'd tear that up, Sarge." Seamus said, frowning.

"Five thousand caps, though." Spadge said fervently, "can you imagine having five thousand caps?"

"I uh… I really couldn't say." Jessica laughed out of disbelief, wondering how poor the average wastelander was; she herself bet twice that on blackjack at the casinos on slow Tuesdays.

"He wears a brown duster and a red bandana." Seamus said. "Tall. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. A bit like captain cosmos."

"Sounds like a bit of a dreamboat, actually." Jessica joked smoothly.

"Can't say I noticed." Booster responded gruffly.

"I got a girlfriend. I wouldn't know." Said Spadge.

Seamus' cheeks were tinged slightly pink. "He kinda is…"

"Anything else I should know?"

"He's really good at killin things." Booster said.

"Well in that case I'm relieved to have you with me." Jessica told him. All the mercs stood up a little straighter and puffed their chests out.

"He's got a pipboy," Seamus added, "Like yours."

"Yeah. On account of him growing up in a vault." Said Spadge.

Jessica's eyes snapped open and she whirled around, grinning. "That might just be the hint I needed, boys!"

They stared blankly.

"Pipboy. Radio tower. Pipboys pick up radio signals…" she explained.

Sergeant Booster blinked. "I didn't know they could do that."

But Jessica was already marching over to the tower. She entered through the gate. "Plant a radio transmitter in your hideout, bounce it off the tower-" she went immediately to the tower generator and flipped the massive lever up to turn it on, "and pick it up on your pipboy."

She immediately tuned her pipboy radio as the mercs gathered around her. Very shortly a series of pips began to bleed through the static. Jessica kept tuning until it was as clear as she could make it, and then began to wander in slow circles, listening to the sound fade and grow. Not too far away from the tower, she stopped in the middle of the road, smiling down at a sewer grate.

The mercs stared in amazement.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me!" Spadge exclaimed.

"C'mon. Let's lift it!" Booster ordered.

Jessica stepped to the side and watched the mercenaries pry the lid up. Booster scanned the area below with his assault rifle.

They climbed down the ladder one by one, guns at the ready. What lay below was nothing but an empty sewer line. Jessica had seen some like it in Freeside. She grimaced as she moved forward into the darkness.

"Sarge, I just thought of something…" Spadge said.

"What?"

"What if he's here?"

Booster's teeth clenched. The mercs peered fearfully into the darkness, searching it for any signs of movement.

Jessica frowned. "There are three of you. heavily armed. He's just one man…"

"It ain't that simple." Booster hissed.

"I ain't fightin' him." Seamus said.

"No one's seen'im in ages anyway."

"If he was here, he probably would have heard us climbing down anyway." Jessica reminded them. All three mercs relaxed considerably.

"What did he do, exactly?" Jessica asked, "Why are you so worked up about this guy?"

"Nothing." Seamus said bitterly.

"Not true." Booster responded. "We was allies during the war, but-"

"The war?"

The mercs stared at her.

"God…" said Spadge, "You _are_ from out of town…"

"The mutant war," Booster explained, "about a year ago, an army of supermutants tried to take the wasteland. We beat them. Barely."

"An army? How big?" Jessica was thinking of Jacobstown.

"Hundreds of supermutants. Maybe thousands. It was rough. But Jackrum – he pulled us through."

"And the Wanderer helped," added Seamus.

Booster rolled his eyes.

Jessica turned to the Corporal and smiled, giving him her full attention.

"He's been helping for a long time." Seamus explained. "Wandering around. Doing good deeds. He disarmed the bomb in megaton, rescued people from the supermutants. He's a hero."

"Killing Mercenaries." Booster shot back. "He's not a hero, he's a freak, Seamus. They say he can survive getting shot in the head. He's got mutie blood in'em."

"He saved people too. And we weren't so good either, Sarge." Seamus shot back.

"At least we're human, kid. But these freaks – these ghouls and supermutants and the wanderer… they're not like us. They're dangerous. They kill people, and they use up stimpacks and clean water and radaway and ammo… they drain us dry and give nuthin' back. The Vox is right: the Wasteland was for Humanity, and we gotta make the Wasteland ours again. Humanity first!"

Seamus shook his head.

"I've known a few good ghouls in my time." Jessica said, thinking of Raul.

"Me too. Me too." Booster said. "Some of my best friends are ghouls, and I ain't got nothing against'em. But the Leader is right: they're them and we're us. If it comes down to them versus us, just sayin: I know where I stand."

"Who is the Leader?"

"He's from out west somewhere." Booster supplied. "Came into the wasteland to help us."

"Fucked everything up." Seamus replied bitterly.

"Swear to god, kid, Imma blow your fucking head off one of these days. You want to marry a ghoul?"

"No Sarge."

"Didn't think so. You know why?"

"Cos they're butt ugly!" Spadge giggled.

"Cos they ain't us." Booster leaned out and jabbed Seamus in the chest, "and deep down, you know that."

His subordinates didn't bother to argue with him. They just rolled their eyes.

At the end of the tunnel they found a fair-sized square room, one half of which was stocked with rickety shelves.

The mercs breached first in a relatively professional manner, with Jessica following behind. She immediately spotted a small switch on the wall near Spadge's head, but held her tongue. All three mercs passed it by, missing it completely.

"Wow…" Said Seamus with a sense awe, "We're actually inside one of his stashes…"

Booster kicked an empty tin can over. "There's nothing here."

He was right; the shelves were barren. A few empty crates. One or two cans of food, and a dirty mattress on the floor.

"Well… all of this was rather anticlimactic." Jessica said.

"You can say that again," Seamus agreed.

"Actually yeah. Say it again please," Spadge said, "Aunty-clamato what now?"

"She said it was boring." Booster explained, rummaging through a few empty crates.

"At least we got it mapped out like the Commander ordered."

"Jackrum can kiss my ass. He knew nothin'd be here. He doesn't want the Wanderer caught and we all know it."

"Well…" said Jessica stretching slightly, glancing at the switch which all three mercs had missed, "If that's all…" _We'd better get moving if you want your money._

"Yeah…" Booster rose to his feet. "Let's get you to Megaton. Move out."

"I'll meet you up top in a few seconds." The Courier promised. She waiting patiently until all three mercs were out of the sewer system, and then pressed the switch.

Behind her, a smooth section of flooring lifted quietly on well-oiled hinges to reveal a second staircase. Her respect for this Jason Howlett increased immeasurably. She was certain she had heard his name before somewhere back west, but she couldn't remember where.

At the bottom of the staircase was yet another room, very small but packed with shelves full of weapons. Assault rifles, energy weapons, stimpacks, drugs and medication of all kinds, and a box full of bottlecaps. There was an entire shelf full of hunting rifle, assault rifle, and shotgun ammunition, as well as a kit for equipment and clothing repairs.

Jessica quickly slipped more Jet and stimpacks into her pack, along with a considerable amount of the bottlecaps. She grabbed two extra barrel-style magazines for her combat shotgun. Then she went back up the stairs, closed the stash entrance and proceeded back out the sewer to the surface.

"Find anything?" booster asked suspiciously.

"I wish."

"Supplies are hard to come by" Spadge agreed.

"Let's get moving." Jessica suggested, hefting her considerably heavier pack over her shoulder, "And you can tell me all about the Wasteland, and this supermutant war."

* * *

Jessica had thought that the Mojave was in bad shape… but it wasn't. New Vegas was a post-post-apocalyptic world, with nations and factions on all sides competing for a wealth of technology, riches, and resources, but the Wasteland was different. The nuclear apocalypse hung heavy over the place. It was present in the constant radiation which kept her Geiger counter ticking continuously. It was present in the deranged groups of raiders, the feral ghouls and bloodthirsty supermutants.

Gangs roamed the highways and less reputable parts of Vegas, it was true, but here in the Wasteland, every single raider possessed the ferocity and savagery of the Fiends. There were supermutants in the wasteland, but they weren't the savage brutes which the Mercs spoke of – they were intelligent, and kept themselves confined to a few small areas. Rarely seen and rarely heard.

As for the wildlife, deathclaws, yao guai, and all manner of giant insects roamed freely around the world. In the Mojave, Cazadores were a pain in the ass – probably the worst thing in the mojave, but kept themselves to hill country and certain mountain passes. There were radscorpions too in certain areas and both could be avoided by a smart traveler who knew the roads. But here they were everywhere, and everything was bigger and meaner.

The Capital Wasteland was a wilderness every bit as savage, brutal and merciless as the worst Jessica had ever seen. It was a miracle humanity had managed to even survive under such harsh conditions.

According to Booster, the arrival of the Brotherhood of Steel had made things moderately easier. They had kept the supermutants by and large contained within the ruins of the city, allowing the settlements outside the breathing room they so desperately needed. There had even been an attempt to build a massive water filtration system powerful enough to supply the entire wasteland with clean, pure water. But it had all fallen apart…

Until the Lone Wanderer from Vault 101 had arrived on the scene.

The Mercs had differing views. To Seamus, the story was inspirational. Some twenty years after the failure of the purifier project, the Wanderer had walked out of a vault near Megaton, and set about fixing every problem in the wasteland, helping everyone everywhere he could.

Booster, unsurprisingly, had a less rosy view of the man: "He's a thug. Good fer nothing but killin' things."

"It's about killing the right things, though." Seamus said earnestly. "He's a hero."

"He crucifies people."

"Excuse me?" Jessica stopped in her track and whirled around to look at them

"Only Enclave. And sometimes raiders." Seamus said.

"As if that makes a difference?" Jessica demanded furiously, "There are worse things than the Enclave, Corporal! Far worse!"

"Well I mean… I know… It's a brutal world, Ma'am…" Seamus shrugged, taken aback.

"You can't build a civilized world on that kind of brutality!" Jessica turned away, breathing heavily and glaring into the distance, remembering the horrors of Nipton. She had agreed to Vulpes Inculta's request to spread news of the atrocity, and after the Legionaries march off, she had moved from cross to cross, putting each suffering individual out of their misery.

"That's what I keep saying!" Booster told them cheerfully. "That's what the Vox Populi is all about!"

Jessica's eyes narrowed. "Vox Populi?"

"Yeah. Dunno what it means."

Spadge, who had climbed to a nearby hill, waved at them. "Guys, we're here!"

Intrigued, Jessica joined him at the top of the hill. Beyond them was an enormous sturdy circular wall, cobbled together from scavenged metal. The trio had been escorting Jessica for the entire afternoon, and evening was falling. The traveler's long shadows stretched far ahead of them, and lights from beyond the wall were bright against the darkening sky beyond.

"There it is: Megaton," Sergeant Booster said, "Second biggest city in the Wastes."

Over the wall, Jessica could see ramshackle roofs and sections of airplanes. A banner was waving from a flagpole on one of the tallest roofs. She felt a cold dread seep into her heart as she watched it flap in the breeze: a white Deathclaw head on a black background.

On the dusty plain below, a six soldiers were approaching. That cold feeling in Jessica's gut only increased as she took in their armour- made from repurposed football gear. Their weapons were cleavers and hunting rifles. One of them wore the feathered helmet of a Decanus.

"Oh shit… it's the Vox." Seamus said.

"Vox Populi is Latin, Corporal." Jessica said hollowly as she watched the soldiers approach. "It means The Voice of the People."

House and the NCR were wrong. They had been in such a rush to retrieve Liberty Prime from the Capital Wasteland before it was swallowed by the Legion's expansion, but their intelligence had been faulty. No wonder the Legion was pushing west so hard. There was nowhere East left to conquer: Caesar's Legion was already here.

* * *

 **Here's another update. Merry Christmas everyone.**

 **After the disaster of Mutatis Mutandis taking so damned long, I'm determined not to let my Fallout stories sit idle. I want to finish this series, so I'm going to update as often as possible, and the juices are flowing!**

 **I know you're all impatient for us to see the Lone Wanderer again, but please, give me a chance to develop the world, and Jessica, as she's integral to the plot of this new series. There's so much to explore! I think it's been over ten years since I started writing Modus Operandi. This new series is almost a soft reboot in a way. Different villains, different plot, different game.**

 **The last trilogy was Fallout 3 – this new one is primarily Fallout New Vegas.**

 **I want to see Jason at the Hoover Dam and Camp Forlorn Hope. I want him to see the Sierra Madre and Zion Canyon too, but I have to do the legwork to get him there. All I ask is patience. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The Legionaries approached them slowly, weapons holstered. They were clearly just a standard patrol. One thing Jessica had to grudgingly admit: areas controlled by the Legion were peaceful, in their own way. But she had always found fear to be a rather unimaginative way to motivate people.

Making someone do what you wanted was not a difficult task. Nor did it require much skill. Any thug with a big enough weapon and enough allies could force anyone to do almost anything. Helping people discover that they're goals were exactly the same as yours - that took skill. Having others do what you wanted and walk away liking you, or feeling like they got one over you – that took skill.

Beside her, Corporal Seamus shifted uncomfortably. Jessica shot him an inquisitive look.

"We ain't always got along so well with the Vox…" the young man admitted.

"Some of us, at any rate." Sergeant Booster elaborated.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Jackrum hates'em." Spadge supplied. "But most of 'em is just Wasters so we can't shoot'em."

"There've been some flare ups, though." Seamus said, "The entire Wasteland is a powder keg. If we weren't so busy holding off the enclave, we'd probably be at war with'em right now."

"They ain't that bad." Booster said as the column of legionaries wound their way through the rocks and trees towards them.

"Why don't you join'em Sarge?" Seamus shot back.

"Cos I'm Talon Company, through and through. I just don't mind what they're doing…"

"Just keep your weapons down, please," Jessica said gently, "there's no reason to fight."

Spadge chuckled. "Who said you need a reason?"

"People never fight without a good reason."

"Oh, you're definitely not from around here, lady."

Jessica stepped forward as the Decanus approached, raising her open hands in greeting, "Ave, sum amicus. I'm a friend."

The man stopped in his tracks and glanced backwards at his followers. Behind her, the Talon company mercs were staring at the courier in stunned silence. The feathers of the Decanus' helmet fluttered gently as he looked her up and down. "Ave, dissolute. Where do you hail from?"

"And how in hell do you know their weirdo language?" Spadge demanded before Seamus shushed him into silence.

"West," said Jessica, _And that's all you need to know…_

The decanus nodded thoughtfully. He pointed his rifle at the three mercenaries behind Jessica. "You travel with profligates. Poor company."

"Call us that again." Corporal Seamus challenged, reaching for his weapon.

" _Quiet_." Jessica snapped backwards. The merc stepped back, cowed. She turned back towards the Decanus. "I've learned to travel without fear in most territory held under Pax Romana, but this is still wild country and I am paying these men to protect me."

"What is your business in Megaton?" the Decanus asked suspiciously. His warriors were standing at his side.

"Just looking for a place to rest and eat." Jessica said. "I've come a long way."

She couldn't see the man's eyes behind his dark goggles but she knew he was sizing her up. He stepped aside and pointed at Megaton. "Vale. Be on your way."

"Thank you."

The legionaries let them pass without any further questions, but Jessica noted the glares exchanged between the Mercs and the Legion soldiers.

Her small band circled the outside of the town, passing some dead molerats along the way until they reached the entrance itself. Several human guards in the distinctive red armour were posted out front, Chinese assault rifles in hand. The powerful assault rifles had never actually made far enough west for Jessica to encounter them in the Mojave, but they were almost a personification of this place and its people: rugged, vicious, and shockingly powerful. Beside the guards was a securitron's carcass. Far above their heads a sniper in Legion gear patrolled a catwalk. It was a very well-fortified town, made to withstand the worst of the Wasteland. If Nipton or Nelson had been half as well fortified, Caesar's Legion would have found their advances across the western bank much, much more difficult.

Then again, maybe not; it hadn't helped keep the Legion out of Megaton.

Whirring motors above her head shook and shuddered into gear, lifting the town's heavy metal doors.

"Hey…" Sergeant Booster said, "Okay so… we're here."

The other two mercs shifted expectantly.

Jessica smiled. "Yes of course." She dug out the Jet first and handed it to Spadge, then counted out thirty caps for each of them.

Seamus held out a hand, "Good to travel with you miss Chase! You ever end up in Fort Bannister, look us up."

"I certainly will! Thank you for everything."

"Alright, move out." Booster ordered, and the three mercs marched away. Jessica gave them one last wave, then turned and stepped into the town of Megaton.

* * *

Jessica had never seen anything like this place. The words 'Shanty Town' didn't even begin to describe it. Most settlements in the Mojave were built from preexisting homesteads. Enough old world structures were scattered across the Mojave that the desert residents really did not need to build anything. It was too easy to forget that no bombs had actually fallen on Vegas.

The Capital Wasteland, on the other hand, had been the epicenter of several bombs. According to Mister House, one Chinese nuke had hit squarely on top of the White House itself in the middle of Washington. Of course people would be forced to move out of the ruins, and build their own settlements, but what startled and impressed Jessica about Megaton was its verticality. It made perfect sense to her: stacked buildings took up less room, and they were able to build an entire town in a very small area which was easily defended, and even had a permanent water supply in the centre. But it meant Catwalks, ramps and stairways were everywhere, crisscrossing the town.

They had a generator somewhere – strings of Christmas lights and small billboards lit the common areas and advertised businesses such as the Brass Lantern and Craterside Supply. Directly across town was an enormous sign with white paint, reading: Nova's Saloon. None of the advertisments had anything on even the most basic signs in Vegas, but for a moment Jessica was comforted; it was a little taste of home.

The townsfolk were plentiful, and around a third of them were wearing bright blue vault suits. There was also a fair amount of red Legion armour in the crowds. A building opposite the Brass Lantern in the centre of town was heavily guarded – probably a Legion garrison. The black Deathclaw flag Jessica had seen on approach was sticking out of the top of a two-story building immediately to her left.

Jessica made her way slowly down to the centre of town. An enormous bomb was planted at an angle in the middle of the crater, right in the middle of the pool. As she approached, her pipboy's Geiger counter spiked, and she backed away, searching for a way up to the saloon. Bars and Saloons, particularly crowded ones, were a sources of information. Not to mention people. She had met Cass in a bar at the NCR's southern Mojave outpost.

In comparison to the empty wasteland, the bustling town was welcomed breath of fresh air. All the same, the presence of the Legion worried her, as did its clear connection to the Vox. If Cass and Boone had been captured by the Legion, it could only mean bad things for-

 _Arcade!_ If Cass and Arcade had been captured by the Legion…

Jessica pressed her lips together in a thin line and shut her eyes, remembering the feeling of his lips on hers, and his hands running down her back. He was so frail in that hospital bed, burned and irradiated beyond saving.

Her hand found her side, where a cazadore had pierced her abdomen. It had been a serious injury, and early enough in her adventures that House had not paid for the Monocyte upgrades yet.

Boone had been so calm under fire, methodically taking the bugs out as she crawled back to him. He had finished them off, carried her to the nearest empty home, and treated her wounds with warm, strong hands. Oddly it had been one of Jessica's better nights outside New Vegas. All she had to do was lie there, tripping on med-x, stimpacks, and cazadore venom, watching the muscles in his arms and shoulders flex as he worked to take care of her with that patient attentive expression…

She missed his quiet strength. She had never been afraid, traveling with him, and his steady hand. In the weeks following his death, she had caught herself, during the more violent moments, listening instinctively for the comforting crack of his sniper rifle, and feeling that cold abyss open up within her when she didn't hear it.

"Hey - hey miss, you okay?" A hand touched her shoulder.

Jessica blinked and looked up. A bearded man with a headwrap and an eyepatch gave her a friendly smile.

"I'm fine, thanks." Jessica sniffed and gathered her courier's duster a little closer around herself. The Mojave was always warm, but as night fell here, it grew surprisingly chilly.

"Name's Billy. Billy Creel."

"Jessica Chase." Jessica waved at the surrounding buildings, "New town and all. I'm just…a little overwhelmed."

Billy smiled warmly. He said, "a newcomer, eh? Well don't worry: Megaton is the best little town you'll find in the Capital Wasteland. Strong walls, strong people, and strong booze. We've got everything you need to make a life these days."

"Speak of strong booze." Jessica gave him a wry smile and cocked her thumb at Nova's Saloon.

"Say no more!" Creel said jovially. He led her up the maze of ramps towards the saloon entrance.

"So what brings you to Megaton, Jessica?"

"I'm looking for some information and maybe someone to travel with…" Jessica told him.

"What information?"

"I'm here to visit the Pentagon." Cassidy and Boone – Arcade – were top priority, but she couldn't say that yet. Not without knowing where the man's loyalties lay, and how loose his tongue was. Not when the Legion seemed to carry such influence here.

Creel looked confused. "The Pentagon?"

"The Brotherhood of Steel."

"Ahh…you mean the Citadel…" his face fell, "you're a little late."

"What do you mean? Did they leave?"

Billy pulled her aside to let a group of Legion soldiers pass. "They died. The goddamned muties slaughtered them."

"Oh…" Jessica frowned. She felt mildly disappointed, and relieved Veronica was not present. In truth, the Brotherhood would never work anyway. Isolationists always found that they were short on friends when such connections were most needed. Stuck with their narrow mindset, the Brotherhood were doomed. All chapters, anywhere. Without redefining themselves from the ground up, they would always, inevitably, be doomed. She asked, "Is the Citadel still standing?"

"Most of it I think." Billy said as they reached the top ring of walkways. "Why? You some kind of treasure hunter?"

"A prospector." It was as good a cover as any.

There was a crash as they approached the saloon. Billy slowed and shook his head. "Aww shit…"

The door burst open and spilled six men onto the gallery, right in front of Jessica and Billy.

"Geroff me ya fuckahs!" A wiry, ageing, bearded man in heavily patched leather armour rose to his feet, swaying from side to side. His feet were steady, though, as were his raised fists and broad shoulders. The others were all Legionaries – young recruits with fire in their eyes. One rose and charged the older man, but he kicked out and hit the younger man in the balls, following up with a second boot to the chin, knocking the young man to the ground. He tackled another and planted his knee in the young fighter's chest, pounding relentlessly on his face, knocking out a few teeth.

"Surrender, profligate!" two more legionaries bore the old fighter to the ground, freeing their ally. The five men grappled with eachother for a few minutes until the old fighter was finally over-powered, with the other four barely holding him down. A crowd had spilled out of the saloon to watch the entertainment.

"Got ta hell ya fuckin' brainwashed shitbags!" he yelled, slurring half the words.

Billy Creel slapped his plan against his forehead. "Jesus, Jericho…"

One of the Legionaries pulled out a billy club. Another produced a switchblade.

Jessica decided to intervene, tapping one legionary on the shoulder, "excuse me."

"Don't get involved," Creel groaned, "Jericho makes problems for himself."

"Step away, dissolute," the legionary ordered, "this Profligate needs to be taught a lesson."

"There's no need for further violence, though," Jessica gave the young man a disarming smile and he lowered his swithcblade, "you gentlemen have better things to do with your evening."

"This isn't the first time." The legionary said.

"There's more than one way to skin a cat."

"I'll fuckin' skin these fuckahs- Ow Fuck you!" the man named Jericho spat a gob of blood-filled phlegm at the legionary sitting on his chest

"Silence!" the Legionary hit Jericho again and shook his fist.

"Let me try," Jessica said, placing her fingers gently on the young man's forearm. He seemed to relax, and the other legionaries paused in their assault. The downed man kept struggling, though.

"Just step back, leave it to me. _You can trust me._ " Jessica gave him another smile, and stepped past him to the Legionaries holding down Jericho. She ignored the onlookers and crouched beside him.

The man named Jericho stared up at her, blood pouring from his nose. "Who da fuck are you?"

Jessica grinned at him and nodded towards the angry soldiers. "Right now I'm the one saving your sorry ass."

"Yeah? I could take'em."

"And then what? The rest of them from all over town come by."

"Yeah!"

"With hunting rifles."

"…yeah…"

"Do you even have a gun?" Jessica asked. "How long do you think you'll last?"

"I… fuck." Jericho laid back against the cold metal catwalk. He finally stopped struggling, and the soldier loosened his grip.

"Alright…" Jessica gently ushered the soldiers back, and Jericho sat up, pinching his nose. "Aww Fug!"

"He's your responsibility," one of the soldiers told her, "see that he stays out of trouble or we'll be back for him."

"I will. Thank you for your mercy. Vale." She waved at them and helped the ageing man to his feet.

"I could'a taken'em!" Jericho declared, glaring at the retreating soldiers. He stank of cheap whiskey.

"I don't doubt it." Jessica replied, directing him back into the bar as the crowd slowly dispersed, their street theatre having run its course.

Billy Creel watched her in stunned silence for a moment longer, then walked slowly to his house to pack. He had a long ttrip ahead of him. Hidden nearby, a pale figure in a dapper pinstrip suit, a fedora, and tortoiseshell glasses pursed his lips, watching as Jessica assisted the retired raider back into the bar.

A hooded Legionary with black goggles and dark armour stood beside him. He waved silently at the assassin, laid a hand reassuringly against the silenced 10mm pistol under his arm, and headed for Megaton's front gate.

The Assassin unsheathed his machete and began to creep slowly around the edge of the crater, towards Nova's Saloon.

* * *

The bar was a cramped, two-level space with rooms above and a large seating area below. The space was actually empty, save for one drunken resident snoozing in a very comfortable-looking chair. It was dinner hour, and everyone had likely hauled off for food. Or it was just a quiet night.

Jessica planted the old fighter in a corner, tilting his head up. She brushed a newspaper off the table beside him, planning on setting down some medical supplies to help him get cleaned up.

"Hey!" A red-haired woman called out from the bar, "Hey, I don't want him in here. He's troublemaker."

"Hi!" Jessica made a beeline for the bar and shook the woman's hand. "I know this is a minor inconvenience, but-"

"Look hon, going down on a John and finding out he hasn't washed himself in three weeks is a minor inconvenience" the redhead declared, "Jericho there's a catastrophe."

"I… wow." Jessica said as politely as she could manage. She glanced back at Jericho for a moment.

The red-haired woman leaned across the bar. "I don't want him in here."

Jessica smiled, digging for a bag a caps. "Listen… Nova, is it?"

The woman nodded.

"I'll just clean him up and get him off to bed. I take it you rent the rooms upstairs." She planted twenty caps on the table.

Nova crossed her arms. "Rooms are a hundred caps a night."

Jessica raised her eyebrows and smirked wryly. "Room service must be fantastic."

Nova chuckled. "Best in the Wasteland, darling." She chewed her lip and looked Jessica up and down. "You could probably make a killing if you stuck around here."

"Well that's very kind, but…"

"Don't even have to sleep with the Johns. Just wear a low-cut top and collect the tips. You any good at flirting, hon?"

"I've done my share."

"Well… offer's open."

Jessica tossed her hair, "Look, I'm new in town. I was just trying to do a good thing, you know? Help out before anyone got hurt…"

Nova sighed and looked over at Jericho. "Been a little while since someone didn't use their fists to sort out a problem around here."

"It's just one night… Fifty?" _Help a sister out…_

"Seventy-five or you can go sleep in the commons."

"I'm guessing there's Legion in the commons…" Jessica said, injecting her voice with just the right mournful tone.

Nova sighed and glanced at a small framed photograph placed beside an old radio on a shelf behind the bar. It depicted her standing beside a grinning ghoul, arm in arm. She looked back at Jessica. "Fifty. One night. I'll get some hand towels and water for the fool over there…"

"Thank you!" Jessica said gratefully.

Nova disappeared into the back room. Jessica grabbed a large bottle of whiskey from the other side of the counter, along with a couple what passed in the Capital Wasteland for clean glasses, and headed back to the old fighter. She pulled up a stool opposite him. He was still pinching his nose to slow the blood flow. "Not one of my good days…"

Jessica shrugged, "Five on one. You didn't do too badly…" _I was very impressed!_

"Ha! You should'a seen me back in the day, Sweetheart. Time was the name Jericho woulda had'em all runnin' fer tha hills! Five on one… Fuckin' pussies."

"You ever miss it?" Jessica asked, pouring them both a double. She handed him the glass, which he took and downed almost instantly. She sipped on hers, cringing against the harsh burn. God, it was pigswill!

"What, being out there, explorin' and all that?"

"Better than standing around here all day with your thumb up your ass." She refilled his glass and he emptied it immediately.

"Heh. Damned straight." His smile slowly faded and he blinked and looked down at her.

Jessica sipped her glass innocently.

Jericho's eyes narrowed. "What's yer angle, kid?"

"I have an angle?"

"Don't mess around with me, kid. I know a playah when I see one. You had them soldjahs eatin' outta yer hand. They backed right off."

Jessica shrugged and took another sip of whiskey, "I like talking. I'm good at it."

Nova stomped up behind her and planted some med-x and a stimpack on the nearby table, kicking the newspaper under Jericho's chair. The barkeep dropped some rags in Jessica's lap, along with two bottles of Aqua Pura. "You gonna pay for that whiskey?"

"Absolutely! How much?"

"Twenty caps."

Jessica shot her a pained look, but Nova was having none of it, "I already gave you half off the room, and I'm eating the cost of those meds."

"Fair enough." Jessica counted out fifteen caps, and another fifty for the room. She handed them over, thanking the woman for her kindness.

"Don't mind Nova." Jericho said, "She's been that way since her Ghoul fuckboy died."

At the bar, Nova glared at him.

"I'm sorry to hear that…" Jessica said, loud enough for the barkeep to hear. She opened a bottle of fresh water and wet one of the rags. "Here, let me get you cleaned up a bit."

"You're one'a them goody two-shoes, then, eh?"

"I'm whatever I need to be," Jessica told him, dabbing at his face. "Besides, I should probably leave you the way you are: all this blood is covering up a whole lot of ugly."

"Ha ha ha. Screw you, kid!"

Jessica picked up the stimpack, flicking the end to empty the bubbles. She inserted it into his arm and pressed the plunger. All at once, the raider's wounds began to close and he groaned in relief. Pulling the needle out, she said, "Actually I'm looking to hire a guide and a fighter. Thought you might be interested…"

"Not unless I know where we're goin' and what we're doin'."

"It's a business transaction, Mister Jericho." _You don't need to know everything to get paid._ "Besides… it's not like you had anywhere important to be: you were about to go out in a drunken brawl with some legionaries."

"Nuh-uh. You tell me or I'm out. Go smoothtalk someone else." He shot back immediately.

Jessica stared. It had been a long time since anyone had said 'No' to her.

Jericho added, "I didn't live this long in the Capital Wasteland by taking just any job. I wanna know who I'm workin' for, and what I'm doin'."

"I came here with a group of people. But we got separated and I need to find them."

"And who are you? You don't look like you done any travelin' at all."

"You'd be surprised."

"Try me. And be honest. I don't want ta have to be changin' yer diapers out there. I don't wanna travel with some pussy-footed goody two shoes."

Jessica took a moment, and a long sip from her whiskey. "I… detonated several underground nukes in a place far west of here. It destroyed an entire town. But I got shot in the head soon after and I don't remember it…"

"Bullshit."

Jessica glanced backwards to doublecheck that the bartender was safely out of earshot. She pulled Boone's First Recon beret off of her head and tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her ear, revealing the twin overlapping scars round, rough, and slightly lighter than the rest of her skin. She said, "I've betrayed my allies, lied to my friends, abandoned a lover when he was on his deathbed, and I work for a megalomaniacal tyrant because at least he has a plan, and my life is very comfortable with him. That's all _after_ getting shot in the head. Is that honest enough for you, Mister Jericho?"

Jericho looked down into his empty glass and coughed quietly. "Should just about do it…"

Jessica smirked and topped him up. "My turn. Why were you picking fights with Legionaries?"

"Legionaries?"

"The Vox."

"Cos of this!" Jericho reached down to the paper Nova had kicked away. He handed it over to her, and Jessica scanned the articles. It was new paper – poor quality, and printed after the apocalypse. The ink stank of chemical fumes which stung her eyes, but she skimmed through the headlines.

 _ **Vox News: Fair and Balanced**_

 _ **Bombed Out - Fact or Fiction - Did the Wanderer really disarm the Megaton Bomb?**_

 _It's been the narrative for years now that a kid with no Wasteland experience crawled out of Vault 101 and, within a few days, disarmed the nuclear device sitting at the centre of Megaton's crater. But how could that be possible? How could a mere 18-year-old Vault dweller with no explosives experience understand how the bomb worked, let alone fix it?_

 _New evidence has come to light that there may have been a third hand in this: an upstanding citizen named Burke who possessed the knowledge. But where is he now?_

 _ **We need to talk about Ghouls: The Capital Wasteland's Ticking Cannibal Time Bombs**_

 _Ghouls – merely humans who've suffered an ungodly amount of radiation, and haven't had the good will or misfortune to die. My dear reader, you may have Ghoul friends. I have a few myself. We've lived side by side with some of them for years._

 _But we've all met the vicious cannibal zombies wandering the darker places of the Capital Wasteland. Two difference species? How different are they, really? And is it true that the so-called 'Nice Ones' are fated to turn against us? Are they just ticking, cannibal time bombs?_

 _It's time to reexamine the narrative. We need to have a conversation about our 'friendly' neighbor, the Ghoul…_

 _ **Talonted: Is Commander Jackrum the Leader he wants us to think he is?**_

 _ **A Vox News Exclusive!**_

 _My fellow Wastelanders, we all know of the Talon Company. Those brave heroes who organized the wasteland after the supermutant invasion, and Jonathon Rumsfeld, the Leader who pulled us all through the fire._

 _But how effective was he? Meet the Wastelanders who still remember the day he offered them up to the mutant hordes to save his own skin. They have not forgotten, and neither should we!_

 _ **Tenpenny Terror: That Time the Lone Wanderer Slaughtered a Group of Innocent Wastelanders**_

 _Safety. It is a word that means so much to us here in the Capital Wasteland, and it was all the long suffering traveler Roy Philips desired…_

 _ **Lone Wanderer: Saint or Slaver?**_

 _Most esteemed reader, have you ever heard the name Harkness? You may not have. He was Rivet City's Chief of Security who, like so many others, had come to the Wasteland seeking a fresh start. Until the Wanderer found him…_

 _ **Paradise Fails: The Wasteland's Economic Powerhouse Laid to Waste?**_

 _Might does not make right, my intellectually superior readers. That is a basic moral truth. So why is the Wanderer allowed to decide what is right and wrong for an entire settlement? Paradise Falls generated hundreds of caps and countless new jobs for Wasteland Citizens. My friends, it is time to talk about how the Lone Wanderer undermined the Capital Wasteland's economic interests, and destroyed the rights of its citizens to make an honest living…_

 _ **Project Purify: Poisoning the Capital Wasteland?**_

 _ **A Vox News Exclusive!**_

 _In a shocking revelation, it has come to light that the Enclave gave the Lone Wanderer the means to use Project Purity to poison the entire Capital Wasteland. Have they been working together the entire time? What do we actually know? Time to check the facts._

 _ **Broken Steel: The Wanderer gave the Brotherhood brand new weapons – so why did they fall so easily?**_

 _The fall of the Brotherhood of Steel was the opening salvo of the mutant war, but Vox News had learned that just weeks beforehand the Wanderer had given them an entire armory's worth of brand new energy weapons. In other words: the most well organized, well equipped force in the entire Capital Wasteland fell in a day. What happened, and how was the Wanderer responsible?_

"You don't want to read that Brahmin shit, honey. It'll rot your brain." Nova had stopped by with another bottle of Aqua Pura, setting it down on the table.

"They really hate the Lone Wanderer…"

"Yeah they do. So do I. Damned boyscout. But this is my Wasteland. Those bastards don't get ta invent what happened and lie about shit. Wanderer was bad, but them muties was worse, and he and Jackrum pulled us through. Ya come down on'em and I come down on you."

Beside them, Nova pulled up a chair and waved an empty glass at Jessica, who obliged.

Jessica looked from one to the other, "what happened to this place?"

"About eighteen months ago a mutant army came storming out of the D.C. ruins." Nova explained, "They wiped out the Brotherhood of Steel and basically half the wasteland in the space of a week."

"How did you survive?"

"The Wanderer locked us up in that goddamned Vault," Jericho said. "I would'a preferred a fight."

"The brotherhood couldn't take it, what makes you think we could have, idiot?"

"I hate being locked up in a tin can. I ain't fuckin' dogfood!" Jericho shot back.

"That's a rough situation. How did anyone survive?"

"There's a band of Mercs up in the northwest called the Talon Company," Nova said, "well equipped and pretty well organized."

"They was fun to drink with." Jericho remembered, smiling, "Lotsa good stories'o lootin' and raidin' and shit."

"They were bad news, but they paid their tabs and didn't cause much trouble here in town." Nova said. "They knew they wouldn't be let back in if they did, and we're a lot easier to get to than Rivet City."

"Rivet City?"

"Southeast of here. Just follow the east bank of the river and you can't miss it. It's the capital of the Wasteland. A bunch of settlers back in the day turned a beached aircraft carrier into a town."

"Easy to defend, see?" Jericho added.

"I wouldn't go near it now, though" Nova warned, "The Vox made it their headquarters."

"And what about the Talon Company?" Jessica asked, making a mental note.

"A merc named Jackrum had taken control of them. He and the Wanderer rallied what was left of us into an army and pushed back against the Mutants. They even got the Enclave on board. Until they betrayed us."

Jessica shook her head. "I can't believe the Enclave are still kicking out here… they were basically wiped out back west."

"Oh, they're more than kickin'." Jericho told her, "They got Vertibirds and heavy armour. Well equipped."

Vertibirds… that must have been what downed the NCR's flying machines…

"They're out north and west, in the middle of another war with Jackrum's Talon Company." Nova said.

"I've met a few of them already. Tell me about the Vox."

"Shitheads."

"Oh, well put, numb-nuts." Nova said acidly. She turned to Jessica, "After the Supermutant war, we thought it would all calm down, and it did in a way. But a lot us had died. The Wanderer and the Talon Company did what they could, but the wasteland is a harsh place. People were starving. Caravans were being picked off, and the Enclave was attacking every vulnerable settlement in the Wasteland, trying to trap the Wanderer."

"Trap him? Why?"

Jericho shook his head, "ooh boy... where the fuck do we start with that one?"

"It's a long story," Nova agreed. "The Wasteland was in pretty bad shape, and one day, out of the blue, this big long troop of guys in armor comes marching up from the southwest."

"Answered prayers..." Jessica guessed, refilling the woman's cup.

"Exactly. It was great. At first. They escorted the Caravans around from place to place. Helped out defending us. Helped us rebuild and recover. In return they just wanted a place to stay. We were all thankful, so we let them in."

"First mistake, last mistake." Jericho said, unsteadily holding out his own empty glass. Jessica obliged, and the whiskey vanished as fast as it was poured.

"After a little while, they started to… change things."

Jessica frowned attentively and filled up the barkeep's glass again.

"We wasn't allowed to do what we wanted no more," Jericho explained, "they had all kinds'a rules." He picked up the paper and shook it angrily, "Started publishin' this shit. Tellin' us what to think." Jessica reached out and gave him a few more ounces of whiskey.

"It's more complicated…" Nova added, "They have some really good speakers on their side."

"Good speakers?"

The barkeep shook her head slowly as Jessica refilled her glass, "I can't explain it. When they talk, you listen, and you… you believe it. At least for a while."

Jessica stiffened. "That sounds familiar, actually."

"They have a special word for them… Fruitmentaries."

"Frumentarii."

"Sounds like you know more than us…" Nova laughed. Jessica smiled politely at the woman's once more empty glass, and poured in a few more ounces. Both of the wastelanders were quite drunk, and that suited her fine. Liquor loosened lips.

"An' they had a real hard-on for the Lone Wanderer." Jericho said.

"They did. That was the big problem. He used to live here, you know. But the Fruitmen-"

"Frumentarii."

"-Yes thank you, the Frumentarii kept on spreading lies and rumors about him. In a month half the town had turned against him."

Jessica had never felt that level of alienation, but her heart went out to the Wanderer. "That's terrible…"

"A lot of good people couldn't take it, and they left town…" Nova said, slurring her words slightly, "Lucas Simms, Lucy West, Doc Mitchell… the Stahls. All of them left. Headed northwest to join up with the Talon Company. And that was it. Megaton belonged to the Vox, and they took control. Anyone who spoke up just disappeared."

"What did they do to the Wanderer?" Jessica gave them both a few more ounces of whiskey. The bottle was less than a quarter full now.

"Hang on," Jericho leaned forwards, "Ya gotta understand something about this guy: Ya don't fuck with the Lone Wanderer. Ya just don't. The Enclave has been tryin' ta catch this guy for like.. half a decade. They march out into the Wasteland with their flyin' machines and fancy power armour and big bazookas and plasma rifles. He comes at them dressed in a duster and a red bandana. Always wins. Always. This guy takes on supermutants every day. Single-handed. Just kills them all. Bang bang bang. Understand, sweetheart, ya don't fuck with the Lone Wanderer."

"The Vox did," Nova told her, "they drove him out. Killed his dog. Trashed his home. Planted their flag on top and moved their Frumentarii in."

"I'm missing something here…" Jessica said, frowning, "If he's such a good fighter, I can't imagine him just letting them do that."

"…I…" Nova shrugged helplessly. "Well… they did."

"What do ya keep sayin' ' _they_ ' for, Nova?" Jericho challenged sourly. "You know what happened as well as I do."

The barkeep fell silent for a long time, staring into her glass.

"Nova?" Jessica asked gently, laying a hand on her shoulder. "What happened?"

"We…" the woman whispered, wide-eyed. "…We did it. Megaton did it to him."

"That's much betta," Said Jericho, leaning back in his seat triumphantly, "Own it. You guys really gotta learn how ta live with havin' done a bad thing."

"I hate you, Jericho."

"Nah. You hate you. You was okay with it. Bought right into all their Brahmin shit, didn't yah, Nova?"

"Shut up." The barkeep was on the verge of tears.

"Where's Gob, Nova?"

"Shut up!"

" _Enough_." Jessica said sharply. The old raider's mouth clamped shut and he stared at her in shock.

Silent tears were dripping down Nova's cheeks, ruining her makeup. "He did so much for us…" she whispered. "And we just… turned on him…"

"It's not your fault." Jessica said gently, sliding her stool over and putting her gentle arm around the woman's shoulders. "It's not your fault, Nova."

"…But it is…" the woman sobbed, her face in her hands.

"I know a bit about these people," Jessica said, "I've seen them before, back out west. If it didn't happen this way, it would have happened another way."

"Yeah but this way, the Wanderer couldn't fight back, ya see?" Jericho explained.

"He… he didn't want to hurt us so he couldn't do anything but… but watch…" Nova said, leaning against Jessica. The Courier could feel the woman's tears against her bare shoulder. She gently ran her hand up and down the woman's back.

"They took the Wasteland. Rivet City was next. They even got our D.J. Three-Dog. Dunno what they did ta him but now he just spews their lies all day long… the only sane people left are holed up in Fort Bannister and they don't let anyone in anymore. Too afraid of one'o them Fruitymen sneaking in. And they're busy with the Enclave."

"How did we miss it…?" Nova asked hoarsely. "How did we not see it?"

"To lost friends." Jessica said, refilling their cups and raising her own glass, which she had barely touched.

"Ta friends." Said Jericho, clinking his glass.

"To lovers." Said Nova, doing the same.

All three of them down their glasses.

"Oh Gob… he was such a good person… such a good…" Nova trailed off suddenly, and Jessica recognized the dead-eyed look and the lolling tongue. She shot backwards and grabbed Nova's shoulders as the Barkeep heaved half the evening's drink onto the saloon floor, narrowly missing Jericho's boot.

"Hey! Watch it!" the old man scolded.

Jessica kneeled beside the barkeep, massaging her back; this wasn't the first time she had guided a friend through a night of overdrinking. "Alright, easy… just let it all out. You can clean it up later."

Nova retched a few more times, and stilled, resting against Jessica and breathing heavily. The Courier reached up and grabbed one of the wet rags, mopping up the Barkeep's face.

"Heh. She never could hold her booze like she needed to." Jericho said, staring at the back of Nova's head. The Barkeep murmured something unintelligible in response. He said, "Ol' Moriarty used ta own this bar. She was just a whore. He used ta get her completely shit-faced. Drunk so's she couldn't even stand. Then he'd drag her upstairs and fuck her senseless."

"There's a word for that." Jessica said coldly, glaring up at him.

"Yeah…" Jericho said, "don't think I didn't notice you haven't really touched yer glass, kid. Yer a sharp one."

"Sometimes." In Jessica's arms, Nova had drifted off to sleep. "Who was Gob?"

"Gob? This saloon's Ghoul bartender. Best thing that ever happened to her. Ol' Moriarty used her. Gob _loved_ her. That's why he didn't head to Fort Bannister with the others. But when the entire town went after the Lone Wanderer he tried to stop us. One man against the whole damned angry mob and well… one of the Fruitmen called him a zombie an' that was it. Whole town up and beat him to death. Right beside the bomb. And Nova did nothing but watch cos the Fruitman beside her told her it was right. Gob's body was floating in that irradiated pool for days before she fished him out and buried him. You think she started drinkin' now with us? Nova's been drinkin' since she woke up this morning."

The man looked down into his glass, swirling the amber liquid and running his thumb around the edge. He said, "I used ta be a Raider, ya know? I was the meanest son of a bitch ya ever saw. I did it all, kid."

Jessica stared at him, and he stared back, straight into her eyes. "I raped. I pillaged. I murdered kids. Entire families. I bin addicted to every chem under the sun. Spent my nights fucking and drinking and shooting up anything I could find, and the days killing everything I could find. Then one day I woke up and I was so Goddamned old…" He snorted, "funny thing about Old Three Dog and the Wanderer, though… they made you believe the world could be a better place. I didn't mind that so much, in the end. Before the Vox tore it all down."

"You could do a good thing now." Jessica suggested, motioning at the sleeping barkeep.

"Heh. Yeah…" Jericho rose unsteadily to his feet and reached down. Together they lifted Nova up, each taking an arm around their shoulder, and half walked, half carried the woman up the stairs. Jessica searched her pockets for a key, and used it to open one of the doors on the upper level, gently depositing the barkeep on the mattress inside.

Jessica tucked a pillow under her head while Jericho grabbed a moth-eaten blanket from a nearby closet and gently tucked it in around her.

They stood back, watching the woman sleep soundly.

"You lied to me, kid." Jericho said, lifting the whiskey bottle to his lips. Jessica had not even noticed he'd grabbed it.

She shot him a small smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." The old raider emptied the last of the bottle and tossed it into the corner where it landed with a loud clank. He said, "You are a good two-shoes afterall."

With that, he pulled out a bottle of aqua pura from his pocket and tossed it onto the bed next to Nova. Jessica shot him a half smile. "I guess we're both liars, Jericho."

The raider raised his eyebrows. "Yeah. I guess so. Sleep tight, kid."

"You too." She picked a room at random for herself and set down her hunting rifle and combat shotgun against the wall. Jessica shrugged off her courier's duster and rolled her slim shoulders. She pulled Boone's beret off of her head and settled down onto the mattress. It was lumpy, stained and torn. Not exactly comfortable, but as she had spent her previous evenings upright in a plane, and trapped in a raider den, Jessica wasn't about to complain. She pulled her duster up as a makeshift blanket and laid the beret across her eyes to block out the light. Her mind ticked slowly over everything she had seen and heard.

It was imperative that she find Cass and Arcade and get the hell out before the Legion realized who they were and what was going on.

Slowly, she drifted off to sleep.

On the floor below, in the back room which only the barkeep was allowed to enter, the latch on the back entrance turned slowly and silently until, with a quiet click, it unlocked. The door swung open, momentarily letting in the cold air of the Wasteland night. A shadow passed into the darkened room, and the door just as quietly swung shut.

* * *

 **Fun fact: that moment when Jessica thinks about Boone – that was actually a typo. I accidentally typed Boone's name instead of Arcade's and decided I wanted to keep it and use it instead of fix it. :)**

 **For those of who trying to figure out the timelines here, after you map it out, could you please explain it to me? I'm a little confused myself…**

 **If I ever go back through this series chapter by chapter and really clean it up, that'll be one of the things I map out and fix because I'm pretty sure I broke something somewhere. Right now I'm just using timeframes that fit what I want to do with this story.**

 **This chapter is twice as long as it's supposed to be, but I had a lot of meat to get through. From here, the story should speed up a little. You have to set up the dominos before you knock them down…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

" _You got what you wanted, so just pay up!"_

 _The bonds were so tight around her wrists, and she was choking on the oily rag which they had stuffed into her mouth and tied tightly in place._

" _You're crying in the rain, Pally." That voice was smooth, and she despised it with every fiber of her being! The dirt was rough against her side as she struggled with her bonds, but they were too tight to break._

 _She looked up, and there he was: Benny! He was flanked by a pair of Khans, their hair bright against the moon. The insects who had captured her, who had dared to interfere with the Legion's plans._

 _How dare he! How dare the Profligate silence her! How dare he tie her down. She would find him! She would find him and make him pay for this humiliation. She would see his smug face scream as he was lifted onto the cross._

 _The Profligate flicked his cigarette to the ground and exhaled, filling the air with smoke. He stank of alcohol and debauchery._

" _Time to cash out…" the man stepped forward._

" _Will you get it over with?" one of his lackeys asked. They had names, but she did not care to know them. They would die too._

 _Benny held up a hand to silence his companion. At least the degenerate understood a basic show of authority._

" _Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face," he met her eye and she responded with a fiery glare. "…but I ain't a fink, dig?"_

 _She could see him. The emotions and animal impulses: the hunger for power. Lust for her body, sympathy for her plight – he clearly had no idea what he'd stepped into…_

 _So many levers… so many strings to pull if only she could talk! Just one word! One word!_

 _He pulled the Platinum chip from his pocket. Her eyes widened – the goal. The key to all of Ceasar's plans for the west… all of Father's plans…_

 _In the hands of a pleb. A degenerate. A nobody. He was not fit to touch it!_

 _She struggled even harder against her bonds. Did he know who he was dealing with? The plans he had interrupted?_

" _You made your last delivery, kid." He buried the chip in his pocket and pulled out a beautiful 9mm pistol with a hand-carved ivory grip, "I'm sorry you got twisted up in this scene."_

 _She froze, following the motion of the pistol._

 _Benny glanced down at his pistol and back up at her, holding it easily. Casually. "From where you're kneeling must seem like an eighteen carat run of bad luck."_

 _That was putting it mildly. They had caught her on The Long 15, entering the Mojave. Her brother had always talked about training her to fight – one could not talk oneself out of every situation. For the first time, she felt that her own pride may have been working against her…_

 _He pointed the pistol at her head, and she stared straight down the barrel. Fear and panic gripped her and she froze. He couldn't. He wouldn't dare…_

" _The truth is... the game was rigged from the start."_

 _There was a sudden flash of li-_

Jessica woke with a start, her heart pounding in the darkness. She felt sweat on her forehead, matting her hair, and on the small of her back. She took a deep breath and swiped Boone's beret off of her head, clutching it tightly in her hand as she tried to hold onto the dream. There had been… a smug voice. Bright hair something… It was like trying to grab water! The colors faded as quickly as they had come, but the voice lingered a little longer. It had sounded so familiar somehow…

Jessica sighed. It happened every so often, mostly in dreams. Flashes of her past. Memories from before Doc Mitchell's clinic. Some smells brought familiarity. Some colors were strangely comforting. Voices sounded familiar even when she knew for a fact she had never met the person before. Some days she felt as though she were living on the wrong side of a curtain, or trapped in veil; able to see light, hear muffled noise, occasionally make out a shape or two but never clearly.

This… the last time an episode had been this strong, she had been speaking to the Frumentarii Burke in the Wrangler.

Just days before Boone had died.

Jessica brought his beret up to her nose and sniffed, shutting her eyes to centre her senses, but all she could smell was her own hair. She exhaled and set it down on the bed beside her, trying not to think about him.

The floor outside creaked, and she looked up. A shadow blocked beams of light which poured through the porous walls.

Feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise, Jessica tried to remember whether or not she had locked the door. More of the lights were blocked, and she heard the rasp of leather as something was unsheathed. The shadow was armed.

She stopped breathing when the latch, ever so quietly, began to turn. Her gaze flickered towards the combat shotgun which sat against the wall beside her bed – out of reach. "…Jericho?"

The latch froze, halfway through its turn.

A breathless moment of silence passed. Then the door burst open ferociously, sudden light blinding her as she dove off the bed towards her shotgun, feeling her way ham-fistedly across the floor as the bed behind her was cut open with an ugly noise. She felt the weapon's solid wooden grip in her hand and rolled over, pointing it straight at the shadow, which was pulling a machete out of the mattress.

It froze, staring down the barrel of her shotgun.

"Just once I'd like a decent night's sleep." Jessica said, pulling the trigger. There was a click as the weapon jammed. She looked down at it in horror and betrayal.

The shadow moved towards her and she jabbed the shotgun forward like a spear, ramming it into the shape's sternum. The figure huffed and doubled forwards, halted momentarily. Jessica ran for the door. She felt a hot, stinging pain across her lower back as the tip of the figure's flailing machete hit its mark, and she spilled out onto the saloon's upper level, gripping the railing and pulling herself away from her attacker. "Help!"

She heard heavy footsteps behind her and dove to the ground. The machete clanged againsthte railing, cutting into it and bending the entire section. Jessica looked up at her attacker, finally able to see him in full: black Legionary armor – an assassin, with his arm raised for a killing blow.

The door next to them slammed open, revealing Jericho, looking furious. "Hey dipshit!"

The raider charged, too fast for the assassin to react. They went over the railing and landed on the floor below with a thunderous crash. The raider laughed as he wrenched the machete from the stunned assassin's hand and brought it down on the man's neck.

On her hands and knees, Jessica stared timidly over the edge of the gallery to the floor of the bar below. The assassin's body was spread-eagled, his head lying a foot away. Jericho grinned up at her and raised the machete. "Oh fuck I missed this! I kinda had enough'o Legion hospitality, what about you, kid?"

Jessica started to smile, but then remembered – "Nova!"

They had tucked the barkeep into the room nearest the stairs. Jessica stumbled into a run and wrenched the door open.

The former prostitute was lying motionless on her bed, a shocked expression on her face and her throat slit wide open. The mattress was stained red with blood.

Jessica shut her eyes and turned away.

Jericho peered in after her. "Well shit… I'm gonna go see where she stashed her caps."

"Seriously?" Jessica demanded.

The raider was already down the stairs. "What? She ain't usin'em anymore."

For a moment, Jessica pondered arguing respect for the dead, but a raider would have no use for such sentimentality. Nor would House, for that matter. Instead, she said, "Jericho, someone will have heard the noise. We don't have time to loot. We have to go."

He paused in the act of shoveling caps from the cash register into his pocket. "I guess yer right."

Jessica collected her supplies and hurried down the stairs. "Is there a back door?"

"Through here."

The former raider led her through the bar's back room, past a terminal and out a back door. They circled quickly and quietly around the edge of the crater, and exited the town just as Legionaries broke into the bar. The noises from the town grew louder and louder as alarms were raised.

Jessica and Jericho watched from a nearby hillock as the town erupted likea nest of angry hornets.

"What now?" the raider asked.

"I'm guessing we won't be welcomed back there any time soon…"

"Heh." Jericho sniffed, "never really liked the place anyway. Let's get the fuck outta here."

* * *

Driven by the need to put some distance between themselves and the likely search parties, Jessica and Jericho found themselves in the parking lot of a Super Duper Mart, trying to decide how to proceed.

A prospector was there too. Or forager. Scavenger. Whatever they were called out here. The man was crouched behind an immobile sentry bot, its heavy black pyramid silhouette instantly recognizable, even at a distance. She could see its enormous, thick arms. One a missile launcher, the other a gatling laser. She knew its plating was thick enough to render most small arms fire useless. One would need a .308 or a rain of 5.56mm ammunition to do any real damage.

The scavenger was wearing an enormous coat teeming with pockets and straps of tools. On his head was a ballcap with a set of dirty motorcycle goggles. He hadn't noticed them yet, so they crouched behind a rusted old car to assess the situation.

"That's a helluva find." Jericho said quietly, "Let's kill him and take it."

"Jesus, hold on a second." Jessica frowned, watching the scavenger.

"Missiles, energy cells, microfusion reactors, sensor modules, batteries, even the scrap metal itself. All worth good caps."

"We're on the run in Legion territory. Or Vox territory. Whatever." Jessica waved a hand, "To whom do you intend to sell all of this?"

"I –oh. Right. Well…" Jericho chewed his lip and said, "There are scavengers around."

"You mean like the one you're about to kill?"

"Don't be a smartass."

"Sentry bots are Robco products…" she said thoughtfully.

"So what?"

"So… I've had plenty of experiences with Robco products." She rose to her feet. "Just… follow my lead keep your weapon holstered."

"What are ya doing?" the Raider rose and started after her..

Jessica marched straight up to the scavenger, careful to keep her combat shotgun on her shoulder instead of in her hands. Jericho, on the other hand, had decided not to follow instructions. He was gripping his assault rifle tightly in his hands, prepared to gun the wastelander down at the first sign of hostilities. Jessica shot him a dirty look, but he stared straight back in defiance.

"Hey hey hey back off." The man warned, picking up a Chinese assault rifle which he had set on the ground beside him, "This here's mine!"

He raised the rifle and stepped in front of the robot. "This is mine!"

In response, Jericho raised his own rifle.

"Whoa, easy…" Jessica held up her hands, "We're just here to trade."

"Yeah?" the man looked her up and down, "trade? Trade what?"

Jericho's aggressive stance was making him nervous, and his finger inched closer to the trigger.

"Chems. Caps. Ammo." Jessica said quickly but calmly grabbing the barrel of Jericho's weapon and forcing it down. "Do you have any fresh water? I am absolutely parched."

The man's eyes narrowed. "I might have a bottle. But don't fuck with me!"

"I promise I won't. How much for the water?" She smiled at him and watched him relax a little, his assault rifle lowering.

"Fifteen caps!"

"That's fuckin' blackmail!" Jericho began to protest, but Jessica held up a hand. "Fifteen? Sounds fair. Very fair." She dug out the caps. The scavenger's eyes widened in surprise.

"The fuck are you doing?" Jericho hissed.

She sighed, "Jericho, just trust me…"

The former raider grunted in frustration and turned away. Jessica shrugged off her pack and shotgun and set them down beside her, walking over to the nervous scavenger and handing over the caps. He put a bottle of Aqua Pura in her hands and shooed her away. "Alright. We traded. Now get the fuck away from me."

"You don't mind if we stop a rest for a bit do you?" she asked, eyes wide and innocent.

"Well…"the scavenger seemed flustered. "Well. Fine but over there!" He pointed at a nearby car. "Just keep your distance. And no funny business."

"Mmhmm." She backed away about fifteen feet and settled on the hood of a car, slipping easily out of her sleeveless duster before she mounted the vehicle and leaned back against the windshield, the very picture of relaxed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the scavenger watching how she moved, and the way the sunlight washed over her.

She let out a long sigh and opened the aqua pura, downing half the bottle in one go.

Jericho plucked her gear from where she had left it, and came up to stand beside her. He gave her a curious look. "What's happening right now?"

"Now? We're relaxing…"

"Uh, you know we're on the run, right?"

"Oh sure." Jessica grinned at him and tapped the hood of the car. "Have a seat?"

"No." the former raider said. He let out a long breath and shook his head in disbelief.

"Patience, Jericho. Just roll with it." She smiled.

The raider looked for a moment like he had a retort on the tip of his tongue, but then he just sighed and settled in beside her, his butt on the ground, and his back against the car door. Jessica settled back against the hood of the car and made a small noise of perfect contentment, she shut her eyes and smiled at the sky. "It's so sunny here."

"Yer a fuckin' weirdo, kid."

"Sure." She cracked an eye open. The Scavenger was back at his robot, glancing over at her occasionally. But he had set his assault rifle back down on the ground beside him.

She waiting a few more minutes, then propped herself up on the elbows and called out, "You must be really good at that, hey?"

The scavenger looked up. "Good at what?"

"Scavenging from robots. You must have years of experience."

The scavenger shrugged. "Well not… that much but y'know… enough."

"I watched a man mess with Robco military tech before." Jessica laughed as if sharing a story with an old friend. "He didn't input the disarm code and it blew his arms off."

The scavenger froze, arms buried deep in the guts of the robot. "The what, now?"

"The disarm code? Robco military hardware was programmed to self-detonate in case of tampering by… Chinese agents…" Jessica trailed off, her smile fading. She sat up quickly and gave the man a serious look. "You _do_ know what you're doing, right?"

The scavenger scoffed. "Lady, I bin doing this for years and I ain't never heard of any override codes. Or blowing-up robots. So shut up."

"Of course…" Jessica said fairly, " _Not like anyone it's happened to was left to tell the tale…_ "

"Well I…" he trailed off too, gaping at her.

"Oohkay." Jessica clapped her hands together and hopped to her feet. "I think me and my friend are just going to leave now… quickly."

She picked up her pack and began to walk away at a brisk pace, Jericho following along behind her in confusion.

"Hey!" the man shouted. He untangled himself from the sentry bot and tripped and stumbled after them. "Hey wait!"

Jessica paused and turned as the scavenger caught up with them. He said, "You uh… you know a thing or two about robots, huh?"

She waved her pipboy. "I have some experience."

"Right." the man said slowly, eyes following the heavy green device. He took off his ball cap and ran a grimy hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "You must be from one of them vaults, eh? Know the old-world tech…"

"A little..." She allowed.

"Look, I uh, I ain't never heard of any override code." The man admitted, shifting from foot to foot.

"It really isn't my business." Jessica told him. "Enjoy your robot. They can be a lot of fun with the right program installed. I once reprogrammed this one securitron in an old factory in Freeside…"

"Look, what's the code? How do ya input it?"

"Well it's-" Jessica paused, and then grinned and wagged a finger. "Ahh – you nearly got me! You want the code, I want money."

"Well I got…" he sniffed and glanced around nervously, "I got… I'll give ya fifteen caps."

"Fifteen?" Jessica smiled. "Is my life worth the price of a bottle of water?"

"Alright…" the man was flustered, "twenty-five caps."

Jessica sighed and planted her hands on her hips. She turned to Jericho watching the amused twinkle in his eyes. "What do you think?"

"Fifty." Said Jericho, "and we don't blow ya fuckin' brains out!"

The scavenger tensed up and Jessica stepped between them, "No one is blowing anyone's brains out! Forgive my friend. He's just feeling a little insulted by that offer. How about thirty?"

"Thirty's good." The Scavenger said shortly, glaring at Jericho. Jessica couldn't help but notice the way the muzzle of his rifle was quietly trained on them once again. She stopped and held out a hand to him, "shall we?"

"You two first."

"No way, scav."

"We'll all three of us go." Jessica said, rolling her eyes and pulling both men along back to the sentry bot.

For all his efforts, the scavenger had not actually done much disassembling. A few wires were loose, and he had knocked a conductor out of place trying to reach further into the machine, but there actually wasn't much damage. Jessica plugged the wires back in, popped the conductor back into its slot, and replaced the panel. She reached up to a different, smaller panel further down the sentry bot's back and flipped it open. Most self-styled robotics experts these days could manage to deactivate the machines without incident, but most of them did not have a pip boy.

Jessica had a different plan. She plugged her pipboy into the sentry bot and ran a brief startup routine. Just enough to turn the lights on.

Lights slowly crawled up its body as servos deep within whined to life.

"Hey, what are ya doing?" the scavenger demanded.

"This is the trickiest part. Don't interrupt." Jessica replied, quietly inputting House's Lucky 38 Override Code.

The sentry bot's arms rose and it jerked to life. _"Scanning… Robco employee detected."_

"Hey!" the scavenger raised his gun, "You weren't supposed to activate it!"

"Wasn't I?" Jessica asked slyly, "Whoopsy..."

She stepped behind the sentry bot, keeping its thick armor plating between her and the enraged scavenger's weapon. Jericho was standing a few paces back, watching both of them as an incredulous grin spread across his face.

"You fucking bitch!" the Scavenger yelled.

Jessica smiled. "Beep boop, Darling."

" _Hostile presence detected."_ The bot's Gatling laser begin to spool up.

"Robot's mine now. I'd start running if I were you…"

The scavenger gave her a last dirty look, and then turned and bolted across the parking lot as fast as he could. Gatling laser fire chased him over a wrecked car and out of sight. Jessica waited for the man to disappear, then stepped in front of the machine, calm and steadfast despite the sentry bot's ferocious weaponry and intimidating bulk. "Sentry bot, your designating is… ED-E." she cracked a smile. "Acknowledge new designation."

" _Acknowledged. This unit's designation: ED-E."_

Jericho had wandered over, absolutely fascinated as Jessica conversed with the machine. "ED-E, set parameters: Parameter one: maintain patrol pattern five to seven meters of distance between unit and Robco employee at all times. Set Priority - Priority one: Protect Robco employee. Priority two: Protect companion of Robco employee. Priority three: pursue and destroy entities hostile to Robco employee. Acknowledge."

" _Acknowledged. Parameters set. Priorities set. Initiating patrol pattern."_

With that, the unit began to circle them, pausing every few seconds to scan the wasteland.

Jessica turned to Jericho, matching his grin with one of her own.

"Ha ha ha! That was… that was crazy good! You-" he jabbed a finger at her, "Ya don't fuck with you."

Jessica grinned mischievously, "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"How did you even think of that?" He demanded, "Every other fucker in the wasteland would've scavved and walked, but you – you fixed it! Now we have a robot! How did ya do that?"

"Always stack the odds in your favor, Mister Jericho. My boss out west owns Robco. This is his property, and I am putting it to use on his behalf."

"An' now we have a robot!"

"We do. Speaking of robots, I'd like to make a pit stop at the Citadel. There's something I have to check…" Jessica sighed, and stared out at the ruined city. "But looking at the state of this place, I'll be surprised if it isn't scrap metal, too."

* * *

On a bluff a fair distance away sat two unnaturally pale figures, each dressed in heavily damaged, tattered pinstripe suits. They wore matching fedoras and tortoiseshell glasses. Each fedora had a set of three tightly-grouped bullet holes dead centre, right on their foreheads. Their suits were patched – damaged by more bullets and knives. Each face had the same high cheekbones, each mouth bore the same thin, serpentine smile. Each set of malevolent eyes was equally dead and colourless.

"She does look familiar, doesn't she, Mister Krupp?" One asked. His voice was thin and reedy possessed a certain low-key moroseness which set on edge everyone who heard it. He spoke with a slow, steady, hypnotic cadence.

"Quite so, Mister Martin," the other agreed, "I did tell you: more than familiar, yes. But what would _she_ be doing here?"

"The Black Widow was never one to disobey orders, Mister Krupp."

"She always did her father's bidding, Mister Martin."

They paused, watching Jessica wind her way southwards, followed by the patrolling sentry bot and the former raider.

"The Frumentarius will be most pleased to see her, yes."

"That depends on why she is here. She was not mentioned in our orders, Mister Krupp. The Good Doctor told her to take the Mojave after Sallow's failures."

"She was to choke the NCR, Mister Martin."

"By destroying the Long 15, yes, Mister Krupp."

"She was to weaken them, Mister Martin."

"Poison their farms, yes. Sabotage their monorail. Kill their generals. Assassinate their president, Mister Krupp."

"Take control of the Strip, Mister Martin."

"Drive the NCR out of the Mojave, Mister Krupp."

"She was to kill Robert Edwin House, Mister Martin."

"And claim New Vegas for the Legion, Mister Krupp. For Caesar, yes."

"All by delivering the platinum chip."

They fell silent.

Then one said, "She was never one to disobey orders, Mister Martin."

The other nodded slowly. "She always did her father's bidding, Mister Krupp.

"She should not be here, Mister Martin."

"Something has gone wrong, yes, Mister Krupp."

"Oh, most terribly wrong, Mister Martin." Both sets of dead eyes narrowed on the figure of the courier. Their identical serpentine smiles froze, and faded into distrustful sneers. Pale, veiny fingers flexed in the sunlight.

"Most. Terribly. Wrong."


	7. Chapter 7

**My god… writer's block is a bitch!**

 **Chapter 7**

The Citadel was every bit as decayed a shell as Jessica had expected. The walls had been torn to rubble, and the place stank of death. The briefing back at Camp McCarren airfield had mentioned that the Citadel was occupied by Brotherhood, yet the only sign of the building's former occupants was the giant pile of rotted corpses which occupied the centre of the ring. Among the dead, Jessica could see power armour and scribes robes.

In the centre of the ring, a large gang of well-armed Legionaries were patrolling. At first count, Jessica estimated around two dozen. On arrival Jericho had readied himself for a fight, and was shocked when Jessica instead settled back in the rubble to watch the patrol, and ordered her new robot to do the same.

"Everyone goes for the Citadel," Jericho explained, "got the best loot in the wasteland."

"Good to know." Jessica leaned out and frowned, staring at the corpses in the centre. There was a malevolent purpose to the destruction around them; something beyond the decay which all buildings suffered in the post-war world. Someone had set about the process of methodically tearing this place to pieces. "What happened here?"

"First days of the Mutie war Brutus' army attacked the Brotherhood. Most of 'em died here."

Jessica nodded sadly. She felt a certain amount of sympathy for the Brotherhood of Steel, but they were misguided – always too reliant on their technology. That was always what did them in. She thought of the fate of the Mojave chapter and felt a stab of guilt.

The problem was not just technology, though. It was their isolationism. People were the only constant in a turbulent world. Human beings. They were, and had to be, the only thing which truly mattered. A Brotherhood member, explaining why they valued technology over people, had once told Jessica, 'everyone knows how to make a baby, but a laser rifle? That's a lost art'. It was the moment she had given up on saving them. The Brotherhood simply did not value people.

A steady distant thrumming made her perk up. "Vertibird?"

"Aww shit." Jericho groaned, sliding down the rubble.

"What?" Jessica frowned.

"Enclave…"

They watched as a Vertibird passed overhead, moving for the Citadel Ruins. "Is that a problem?"

The raider gawked. "Of course!"

"I think we should sit and wait."

The vehicle landed a short distance from the Citadel and deposited four heavily armored enclave soldiers, who fanned out towards the ruins. Almost immediately they engaged with the Legion troops.

"So who we gonna side with, boss? Enclave or Legion?"

"Neither. Let them fight it out and mop up."

"We could just keep running, boss."

"There's an old thought experiment which I quite like to consider at times like this…" Jessica told him, watching the carnage unfold. She watched as below an Enclave soldier exchanged fire with a rifle-wielding Legionnaire.

"Yeah?" the old raider asked, peering over the top of the wreckage.

"Imagine you're one of three gunman. The best man has a ninety percent chance of hitting his target, the second has an eighty percent chance of hitting his target, and you only have a fifty percent chance of hitting either of them. What's the best play?"

"Aim for the best guy first."

"Wrong. Best play is: Don't shoot at all."

"What?" Jericho turned to her "But ya gotta defend yourself!"

"You think the best man is going to aim for you instead of the other guy?"

Jericho thought for a moment as gunfire continued below. "Nah. He'd be crazy."

"Precisely. And the second man?"

"He'd aim for the best guy."

"Exactly. There is a high probability that they wound or kill each other. All one needs to do afterwards is mop up."

The Raider was quiet for a moment. "That's brutal."

"It works. My boss and I conquered a nation that way. Had two armies ready to fight. I made sure they were both as visibly strong as possible, while building our own power in secret. They attacked each other, each viewing the other as the greatest threat, and by the time we rolled in, their armies and resources were exhausted. We brought them to the table knowing we held all the cards."

"Brought them to the table? Ya didn't kill'em?"

She rolled her eyes, "why is it that everyone thinks of diplomacy as a weakness?"

In the citadel, the Legion and the Enclave were in a pitched battle. The Enclave were better equipped with power armour and laser weapons, but the Legion was twice their number, more maneuverable, and had the advantage of height, cover, and multiple angles of fire. A grenade did the last Enclave soldier in, leaving two Legionaries alive. One in good health, crouched behind the pile of bodies, and the other wounded and lying on his back at the centre of the ring.

Jessica peeked over a slab of concrete and nodded at the healthy legionnaire, "can you take him down?"

"Lessee…" Jericho rested his assault rifle in the nook of some twisted rebar, "this rifle ain't built for snipin', but I'm damned good with it."

On the ground below, the healthy fighter had rushed over to his comrade, and was administering a drug of some kind – probably Med-X.

Jessica heard Jericho's shallow breath, heard the loud clack of the rifle, and felt the pressure bellow outwards from the ejection port and the gentle _ting_ of the empty casing as it landed beside her.

On the ground below, a spurt of red, and the healthy man fell, gurgling and clutching his throat.

"Nicely done." Jessica congratulated, rising to her feet.

"Thanks boss!" Jericho smiled proudly.

She led him down into the ring. Their sentry bot found a relatively flat section of ruins and wheeled across, scanning for any other hostiles.

Jessica strode over to the wounded man and knelt beside him. He wore a dirty merc grunt outfit underneath the legion armour, and had a trimmed beard. One side was covered in black and red burns from the laser rifles which had melted away most of the football gear which passed for armour in the Legion. He lay whimpering as he clutched his side.

Jessica smiled down at him, gently slipping her hand into his. "Hi there, I'm Jessica."

The man stared up at her with wild, delirious eyes, "oh fuck help me!"

"What's your name?"

"L-Leo. Leo Stahl."

"Hi Leo, Don't worry. I'm here to help!"

The man groaned and gritted his teeth, his face going pale. "Have you seen my brother? He was here with me just… just…"

Jessica reached down and gave his head a gentle shake. "Hey, stay with me, Leo."

She pulled a Stimpack from her pack and injected it into his side. Almost immediately color began to return to his face. He opened his eyes and blinked, staring up at her. "Have you seen my brother Andy? He was here. He was here fighting with me."

"I'll look for him, but I need some information first." Jessica promised, glancing around the Citadel. Nothing moved but the carrion birds. Behind her, Jericho was approaching, rubble crunching underneath his combat boots. He kept his rifle up, scanning the ring for any remaining enemies.

She said, "I'm sure I can find him, but I need your help: A vertibird was shot down in the east. What do you know about it?" _Tell me and I'll find your brother_

"I dunno anything."

"Hey, Leo!" Jericho said cheerfully, greeting the wounded Legionnaire.

"Jericho…" the man growled, sudden anger lending him a little strength.

Jessica grinned, "You two know each other?"

"Well sure." Jericho said, "I was sweet on his sister fer a while. They ran a grub stand in Megaton. Them and their brother Andy."

"Fuck you, Jericho!" Leo spat.

"Least her and Andy did. All you did was waste the profits on Jet, didn't you?" Jericho asked. "You useless fuckwit waste'o'space."

Jessica smiled to herself and pulled an inhaler full of Jet from her pack. Leo's gaze immediately focused on the chem, and stayed fixed upon it.

"A vertibird was shot down in the west." Jessica said, waving it back and forth, "the Legion has prisoners. Do you know where they are?"

"Prisoners?"

"Concentrate, Leo. Vertibird. Prisoners. I can make the pain go away…" _Tell me and I'll give you Jet._

"I heard there were prisoners…" the wounded man coughed. "I heard they went to Rivet City."

Jessica's heart soared: There was a strong chance Cass and Arcade were still alive, then! She had not spotted their bodies amongst the wreckage of the Vertibird. There was a strong chance they had been taken to this Rivet City place.

"Where is rivet City?" she asked, "Where is Rivet City, Leo?"

I know where Rivet City is, Boss." Jericho told her, "but it's Legion Central and we're wanted fugitives. Best chance for us: go north to Fort Bannister. Hook up with Jackrum's crew.

"The Talon Company?" Jessica said, remembering the Mercenaries who had taken her to Megaton.

"Yeah."

"What about my jet?" Leo asked.

Jessica held the inhaler to his mouth and pressed down as he breathed in. Almost immediately, he relaxed into a pleasant haze.

"What are we going to do with him, boss?" Jericho asked.

Jessica sighed and stared down at the wounded man. His burns were extensive, covering well over a fifth of his body. Yet Jessica had seen worse in the warzones of the Mojave, and she had treated grievous injuries both in the NCR tents, and at the Boomers' airforce base.

"We should just kill'im."

"To put him out of his misery?"

"Nah."

"Because he's Legion?"

"Nah."

Jessica shot Jericho a half-smile. "Well why?"

"Cos he's a useless junky fuckwit waste'o'space."

Jessica's smile turned to disapproving frown. She said, "We'll keep him alive. He might be useful."

"Why?"

"Because I'm guessing Rivet City has guards. Guards must either be tricked, bribed or befriended." Jessica gave her patient two more stimpack injections, some Med-X, and another puff of Jet. "Getting one of their men back alive really helps with that."

"We ain't goin' ta Rivet City!" Jericho declared.

"I'm going." Jessica told him, barely sparing him a glance. "I'm taking my robot. You're welcome to come along if you like. I've come to enjoy your company." _But don't forget who's boss…_

She glanced up at the wasteland, waving in a general northwesterly direction. "Bannister is off that way I think. Maybe." _If you think you can get there on your own, feel free to try…_

Jericho grunted, glancing back and forth between Jessica and the clear shoreline leading to the open wasteland. "Aww fuck."

"And we're not done here yet, anyway. Help me find an entrance."

* * *

Darkness swallowed them quickly, and it made Jessica very anxious. The Mojave was not home to many dark spaces. The odd factory and vault dotted the landscape, but here in the Capital Wasteland, the interior paces seemed as hostile and unconquered as the wilderness. She was only a few steps into the ruins under the citadel, and already it was cramped, claustrophobic, and full of that dead white noise which seemed to inhabit every vault in the Mojave.

Jessica lit the flashlight on her pipboy and was rewarded with a small pool of stale, sickly light which revealed a long hallway with peeling paint and a sagging ceiling. Doors opened in every direction. Some labeled, others not. A nearby sign informed her that they were standing in the A-ring, for all the good that knowledge did them. The walls were covered in bullet holes and Jessica could see bits of shrapnel embedded everywhere, glinting in the meager light; a great battle had taken place here.

Jericho followed close behind her, his Chinese assault rifle at the ready. She turned to him and nodded at the weapon, raising an eyebrow. "Why the gun?"

The merc shushed her immediately. "Anywhere in the wasteland where people ain't, is usually lived in by things that ain't people."

Jessica pondered his words for a few seconds and glanced back down the shadowy hallway. A smell permeated the place – organic and rotten. Perhaps it was her imagination, but subtle creaking and swishing overlaid the dead white noises. Somewhere she thought she heard a dry, raspy breath, somewhere in the maze, something was moving around.

She shrugged her combat shotgun off of her shoulder.

"Atta' girl."

"Please don't patronize me."

Off to their left was a room labeled as 'Lyons' Den'. Jessica stepped inside, combat shotgun at her hip. Jericho brought up the rear, keeping his weapon trained behind them. The room was long and narrow, with beds spaced periodically, and a small alcove for drinks and food. Each bed had an accompanying locker, and as Jessica searched through them, she found that each one had a label attached to it: Dusk, Tristan, Colvin, Glade, Kodiak, Vargas, Gallows.

The last locker was labeled Lyons, and had a small potted plant on top. The plant had long since died, but there was still yellow in the faded, shriveled petals. Jessica reached out with a trembling hand and opened the locker as quietly as she could. The squealing of the rusty hinges sheared the air, and seemed to echo forever.

Within the locker was a single, spherical object: a clown mask with an impish grin. It seemed to stare directly up at her and Jessica felt a sudden wave of cold fear wash over her, catching her in its undertow and dragging her into hysteria. For a moment she could hear the ocean, and the sound of distant buoy bells. She backed away hurriedly, her boot crunching through a corpse's ribcage. She shrieked and kicked it away, maggots flying off of her boot in every direction. A radroach skittered out from underneath a nearby bed and vanished through one of the open doors.

"Would ya keep it down?" Jericho hissed, smoothly guiding the locker closed. He settled on one knee to examine the corpse.

"Who was it?" Jessica asked as he gave the sunken features a closer examination. She kept a little ways back, letting her heart settle. The moment of panic had left her feeling deeply unsettled, and she could smell salt water, which was strange.

The corpse's rotten clothes were full of pockets and Jericho began rifling through them. He shrugged, "some scavenger. Probly got here after the war ended – Ahaha!" he pulled a handful of caps, some bobby pins and 5.56mm ammunition various pockets.

Jessica took a last breath to collect herself and knelt beside him. She began to examine the body. Not for loot, but for cause of death.

On the body's forearms were a few large gouges, and a large chunk of leather was missing from its boot.

"What is that from, a sword or sumthin'?" the former raider asked.

"Bite marks," Jessica said, examining the blackened, ragged wounds, "swords cut and chop, but these chunks have been torn away. By something with big front teeth."

At that very moment, a knee-high hairless creature with enormous buck teeth and beady black eyes snuffled its way around the corner. Jericho immediately raised his rifle.

"Whoa! Hold on." Jessica gently guided the tip of his weapon down. She bent on one knee as the creature grew closer to them, plodding slowly on its stubby feet.

"Do you know how things work here? This is the Capital Wasteland, boss. Just shoot anything what ain't you or your buddy."

"Animals are like people, Jericho." Jessica said gently as the molerat nuzzled her open hand. It's long snout wrinkled and it let out a cute little sneeze. She smiled. "They attack when they're scared or hungry or desperate.

"Molerats are pests."

"We ranch them back home. Grow them for food." Jessica said, scratching her new friend behind the ears. It burbled at her and bumbled forward, finding shelter between her open arms. Jericho's jaw drooped a little lower. "Food, huh?"

"Mmhmm." Jessica smiled, recalling peasant memories, "Molerat meat is delicious if cooked properly. Remind me to introduce you to molerat manicotti when we make it back to New Vegas."

"Jesus. Out here you're lucky just to boil up a can of beans and mix some dogfood in."

Jessica wrinkled her nose as she knelt in front of the molerat, petting it gently. "Ew!"

"Welcome to the wasteland, Boss."

She grinned down at her new pet, noting the big brown spot on his snout, "I'll call you… Wilbur."

The raider rolled his eyes. "You know he's probly eaten people, right?"

"Well he won't eat us. Will you, Wilbur?"

The molerat let out a loud parping noise and walked dutifully at her side as they made their way further into the derelict facility.

Two shadows in pinstripe suits followed them, unseen and silent as the grave.

* * *

The central chamber of the Citadel was a wreck. Rays of light shone down from the massive open hole in the centre of the two-story room, illuminating in the thick, dusty air. Sand covered the surface of every piece of derelict equipment, and small dunes had built up at the hallway entrances and around corners.

On the upper level, a dead Talon Company merc was lying against the wall. A couple of brown spindly feral ghoul corpses lay around her, riddled with bullet holes. In her limp hand was an assault rifle and a few magazines of ammunition were on her belt. Her bottom jaw was missing completely, and her bruises and twisted limbs told much of the brutal nature of her death.

Jessica sighed sadly and crouched beside the corpse. "I always hate seeing corpses."

"Sssh!" Jericho hissed.

"What?"

"Whatever killed her might still be here… those are fresh, boss."

Jessica glanced up at him and then back down at the corpse. It was indeed 'fresh' as he had so aptly put it. It barely stank, and the pool of blood was drying, but not hard yet.

A day at most?

Wilbur plodded up and began to lick at the blood pool. Jessica patted him lightly on the head and moved as quietly as she could into the chamber. Sand crunched under her feet, and as she reached the railing along the upper level, it creaked, broke, and fell away to land with a horrendous clang on the floor below.

Foul, guttural cries sounded from the dark spaces surrounding them, and only then did she see a dozen spindly shapes darting around between the shadows on the floor below.

"Aww now ya kicked the hornet's nest." Jericho.

Dry, rasping footsteps pattered towards her, and Jessica turned in time to see a brown, papery-skinned feral ghoul winding up to strike at her. She shrieked and threw herself backwards, nearly losing her footing as her boot slipped on the edge of the precipice.

The ghoul's clawed, spidery hand missed her nose by inches. Jericho's boot slammed into its side, throwing the creature off the edge and it landed on an old computer station with a crack, bent in half and hanging awkwardly from the desk, stone dead.

Jericho wrenched her combat shotgun away from her and pointed it at the oncoming shapes, which were whipping up a set of precarious stairs and towards them at high speed. He sighted on the leading ghoul and pulled the trigger. The shotgun let out a loud blaat and the feral's head exploded. The ghoul behind it tripped over its falling corpse, limbs entangled, and the dead ghoul pulled both of them over the edge to crunch on the floor below. The shotgun shots rang out, echoing loudly in the derelict space. Wilbur rushed forward, gnawing at ankles and tripping the creatures up for Jericho to finish them off. Ghoul after ghoul fell, limbs flailing in the dirt and the blood until silence fell and the floor around them was littered with shotgun shells.

Jessica had huddled up behind him, her hands on her ears to muffle the noise. She carefully lowered her hands. The raider turned back to her, an annoyed look on his face. "Listen here, Boss: this is the Capital Wasteland. Ya don't go anywhere, or do anything without thinkin'o what might be here waitin' for ya. Ya don't plan ahead, ya get dead. Alright?"

Jessica stared up at him. The Mojave was for the most part hospitable. And so long as one stuck to the main roads it was rare to even have to fire one's weapon during a trip. Things were predictable there. There were Deathclaws, true, and Yao Guai too. Yet they did not wander everywhere. The Deathclaws were around the quarry. There were few giant insects as horrifying as the Cazadores, but so long as one stayed away for the deeper mountain passes, one could avoid them quite easily. Feral ghouls also dwelt in the Mojave, but only in the deepest reaches of the Old World bunkers and vaults. One had to search really hard for danger in the Mojave. Here… it was inescapable.

Even the humans were a risk here. In the Mojave, Jessica flowed easily from faction to faction, building alliances and friendships along the way, but here every raider band was as vicious and psychotic as the Fiends. Every faction heavily armed and inclined to shoot first and not ask any questions at all. She wondered what sort of a man would thrive in a place like this. "My apologies. Thank you for your help." She said as he helped her to her feet.

Wilbur rushed up to her side, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. She bent down and scratch him behind the ears, "And you helped too, Wilbur. Yes you did!"

"Let's just git movin' alright?" Jericho sniffed and squinted into the shadows, trying to suss out any more threats. "What was we here for again?"

"A robot," Jessica said, dusting herself off. Jericho offered her shotgun back to her, but she shook her head, "I think that gun serves us much better in your hands than in mine, quite frankly."

"Fine." He stepped in front of her and led the way down the stairs to the lower level. "What robot?"

"Liberty Prime?"

Jericho started to laugh. Jessica frowned at him. "What?"

"That thing only worked once. Years ago. Then it got nuked."

Jessica felt her stomach drop. "…Nuked?"

"Yeah. The Enclave blew it up. Brotherhood was trying to fix it." he stepped onto the dented platform at the very centre of the circular room and stared up at the enormous hole in the ceiling. The platform was an elevator of some kind, surrounded by four sturdy steel columns, and designed to move heavy objects between the laboratory space and the surface. The enormous steel doors which would have opened up to the sky had been pounded out, and hung, twisted and broken, from the ceiling. Little trails of dust fell from the opening, swirling with every gentle gust of wind from the surface.

He said, "didn't help them much. In the end."

"So it's not even here…" Jessica's heart dropped as she realized how pointless the entire trip had been. Now she was stranded in this hostile, foreign land – her friends lost or captured for no reason at all. "Great. Mission accomplished."

A quiet, slithering voice echoed smoothly in the darkness, "Liberty Prime…"

"She comes for the robot, Mister Krupp, yessss."

Jericho spun around, shotgun leveled at the darkness as he searched for the speakers.

There was something dreadfully familiar in their voices; Jessica had heard them before, but she was not expecting them here, so far from the Mojave…

"Who the fuck are ya? Step out!" Jericho barked.

"The profligate speaks, Mister Martin!"

"So it does, Mister Krupp. So it does."

"Jericho…" Jessica prompted slowly as the former raider trained his gun on shadow after shadow, searching for the speakers, "Jericho put your weapon down."

A figure melted out of the shadows. Jessica noted his unnaturally pale skin, milky eyes, and pinstripe suit. Her heart dropped even further: it was Burke. Or another clone. Or abomination. Whatever it was that had killed Boone. The air seemed to grow thin and cold as the figure neared them.

The stranger said, "Wise advice from the _Immune_ , Degenerate."

Jericho spun around and pointed his shotgun directly at the stranger's head.

Jessica couldn't keep a hint of panic out of her voice. "Jericho, please put your weapon down."

Wilbur the molerat whimpered and crawled underneath a nearby table. A second figure emerged from behind them, closer to Jessica. She spun around and backed up, trying to keep them both in view. "Jericho, please!" she said.

His finger tightened on the trigger. "Nuh uh. I ain't doin no such god damned thing, boss. Not for these fuckin' jokers!" Jericho spat at the nearest figure. "I heard'o you weirdo bastards. Heard all kinds'o shit. Heard you can't die."

"It would be unwise to test that, profligate." The figure said, coming ever closer. His footsteps were silent.

"Most unwise, yeeesssss, Mister Martin." The other agreed.

The first tilted his head and stared down the barrel of the shotgun, completely unafraid. "We would be most displeased, Mister Krupp. I would not wish to dirty my suit."

"A man is judged by the sharpness of his suit, Mister Martin."

The hairs on the back of her neck had risen with every word they uttered, and she remembered the horrific nature of Boone's fatal injurie. She remembered how Burke had spoken to her during his interrogation. How in control he had been. How calculating. How threatening. If Jericho fought, he would die. "Jericho, _Drop the damned gun and stay quiet!_ " Jessica ordered, watching their spidery fingers flex in preparation for the fight.

The shotgun hit the floor, and Jericho stared down in numb astonishment at his own hands. The figure slipped past him as they both circled Jessica, leaning in to examine her. She kept her eyes down, fixed on the floor as they circled.

"It is her, yes, Mister Krupp."

"Indeed, Mister Martin."

"What is her name today, Mister Krupp?"

"It changes with the wind, Mister Martin."

Jessica cleared her throat, "I'm Jessica Chase."

"Jessica…" one of them mused.

"Frumentari."

"Immune"

"Most favoured friend of the Legion."

"The Black Widow, yes..."

"But what brings her here, Mister Krupp?" one of them hissed in her ear. She flinched.

"A good question, Mister Martin." The other replied.

"Can she answer?" one of them tilted his head inquisitively.

Jessica's mind worked fast. She said, "I was sent to retrieve Liberty Prime."

It wasn't a lie, exactly. Just… an exclusionary statement.

"And yet the asset has already been retrieved, Mister Krupp."

Jessica frowned: Retrieved? By whom? The Legion? And where was it now? Still in the Capital Wasteland, or being shipped west towards the Hoover Dam?

"Her presence is anomalous, Mister Krupp."

"It. Is. Vexing… Mister Martin, Yesss." One of them hissed, circling behind her, far too close.

"Most Vexing, Mister Krupp."

"Quite so, Mister Martin."

Krupp's voice, or perhaps Martin's, grew colder and threatening, "So what. Brings. Her. Here?"

"You know these guys?" Jericho demanded from somewhere behind her.

"It's… complicated," Jessica shrugged helplessly as one of the circling figures stopped in front of her, practically nose to nose, uncomfortably close. He leaned in further and she found herself leaning back, keeping her gaze averted. She could feel his breath on her cheeks as he lifted a pale, veiny hand to her face, and brushed aside a few strands of hair to reveal her scars. His fingers were cold as he traced them.

"How interesting, Mister Krupp."

"What have you found, Mister Martin?"

The man's eyes narrowed as he gazed at Jessica. "Wounds."

"Grievous wounds, yes." His companion agreed as they stood together in front of her.

"A damaged mind could lead to erratic behavior, Mister Martin."

"Quite so, Mister Krupp."

The fingers ran along her chin and gently tilted her head up. "Look at me, yes?" the man prompted. Jessica remained silent, but kept her gaze averted. The abomination's anger spiked and his grip became painful. " _LOOK. AT. ME!_ "

Jessica's green eyes met his own milky gaze. He had no pupils, but appeared to giving her a careful examination. On the platform, Jericho tensed, but remained still and silent. His shotgun lay on the ground beside him.

After a moment, the man holding her chin said, "She does not remember us, Mister Krupp,"

"She is frightened, Mister Martin."

Jessica balled her hands into fists to stop them from trembling, she managed a smile, "Gentlemen… I'm sure whatever you seem to think this disagreement is, _we can come to some understanding_. May we speak in private?"

The pinstriped men glanced at one another, considering her statement.

"I think it would be wisest, with all due respect, Widow, that you do not speak at all until you see the Legate."

"We are well acquainted with your… skills." Said the other. "We would like to avoid any… anomalous behavior"

Jessica frowned, "the Legate?"

A spidery finger was pressed to her lips, and the pinstriped man leaned in close, "no more words, Widow. Follow, yes? All questions will be answered."

"All in due time, Mister Krupp." One of them said. He turned to Jericho and beckoned the former raider over. He obeyed, glancing nervously at Jessica, but she kept silent. He had been right all along. Things here were far more serious than they had first appeared. She should have listened to Jericho and gone north first.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Five people were seated at the table, two had their hands bound with thick chains. Light shone through the thin tent walls, bathing them all in a warm glow.

At the head of the table sat a man, aged beyond his years. He had a gaunt, weather beaten, face, with a short, rough, scraggly beard, and greying hair, though some color still came in at the roots. He was of medium height, though his spry, wiry frame made him look deceptively small. he wore black combat armour with a white eagle talon insignia on the breast. A half-pack of cigarettes could be seen, peeking from behind the breastplate.

He glanced to the blonde woman on his left. She was wearing a pale shirt with a dark vest over the top and a pair of worn jeans. Her blue eyes were quick and perceptive as she scribbled notes onto a pad of paper in front of her.

To the older man's right was an enormous dusky bear of a man, with a ten-gallon hat, and a sheriff's badge on his short-sleeved shirt. He sat up straight, his arms crossed and muscles tensed. He wore a permanent grimace, just visible beneath his bushy black beard. He had a Chinese assault rifle in decent condition leaning butt on the ground, the barrel against his hip.

The older man proffered a cigarette, but the sheriff waved him off and shook his head.

With a final note and an aggressively punctuated dot with her pencil, the young woman finished her scribbling and sat back in her chair, nodding at her companions.

The old man took a long puff on his cigarette, sprawled backwards in his chair. He smiled lazily across the table at his captives and said, "My momma always told me ta sit up straight, but I never did." With a ka-thunk he put his feet up on the table and leaned back until the chair was tipped on its two creaky hind legs. He said, "I sit like I was poured."

Across the table, Rose of Sharon Cassidy and Arcade Gannon glanced at eachother, but said nothing.

"Explain it to me again." prompted the older man.

"Not sure what's so complicated here, friend," Cass said.

"Your scribe just finished writing it all down." Arcade pointed out. The blonde woman shot him a glare, but said nothing. She tapped her pencil impatiently against the paper pad, and Arcade noted, not for the first time, the band of pale skin around the ring finger of her left hand.

The aged man across the table flashed them both a small smile. "Indulge me."

"So far west of here, there's a nation called the New California Republic-" Cass began for the third time.

"The NCR." The older man said, cigarette waving as he spoke.

"Right… and we're here for them."

"Ostensibly for them." Arcade clarified. "We're actually free agents for a third party called Mister House."

"Except we work for Jessica." Cass said.

Arcade sighed in annoyance. "Jessica works for House, therefore we work for House."

Cass shook her head, "I don't work for House."

Arcade grunted, "okay whatever. Good lord, this is ridiculous. Look, mister… Jackrum, is it?"

"Will neither confirm nor deny." The man said teasingly, puffing away on his cigarette. "Continue."

"So you have the NCR and the Legion," Arcade explained, gritting his teeth.

"And the dam in the middle." Cass reminded him.

"And the dam, yes-"

"Which supplies electricity to the City." The man named Jackrum prompted.

"New Vegas, yeah."

"And whoever controls the dam controls the city…"

"Controls the Mojave." Cass explained, "It's a gateway to the West."

"Chokepoint for armies. A beachhead for an invasion force. Lots of wealth. Lots of technology."

"Valuable property." The man with the Sheriff's badge intoned.

"Tactically and economically, yes." Arcade agreed.

"It's not just the NCR and Legion, though," Cassidy added, "There was a dozen tribes around the area each with their own issues and interests. And House. It was a clusterfuck."

"House?" The Sheriff asked as the blonde woman's pencil scratched more notes across the paper.

"Robert Edwin House. He owns the strip." Arcade shrugged, "A prewar tycoon. I don't know how he's still alive. No one knows anything about him."

"You work for House?"

Cassidy and Arcade both lit up in protest. "No!" "Absolutely not!"

"What's so bad about House?"

The two prisoners glanced at one another. "I uhh…" Cassidy shrugged, struggling mightily with the answer, "He's not… he's just a… I don't think he's always…"

"He's a tyrant and a staunch capitalist." Arcade said. Cass added, "neither of us trust him. No one does."

Arcade leaned forward, "so we work with Jessica."

"…Who works for House," Jackrum said slowly, "therefore…"

"Look, it's not a contract or anything. There's no quid pro quo. We're just her friends." Arcade said, "We can leave any time we want."

"But you don't…" Jackrum's head tilted to the side, "what's so special about this woman?"

"She's just…" Cass said, "Jess is special. Look, the Mojave was in a pretty bad place, stuck between House, the Legion and the NCR, with a dozen tribes all vying for power. Then Jessica walks out of the desert and just starts fixing things."

The blonde woman and the sheriff exchanged significant glances.

"She brought all the tribes together under house. Played the NCR and legion off against each other, and managed to get pretty much everyone and everything the best outcome possible." Arcade said fervently, "and it's still going! Helping her build the Mojave is an incredible thing to be a part of, and so no. We don't just leave."

"But you don't know anything about her?" Jackrum tried.

Cass shook her head, "Jessica doesn't know anything about her. She got shot in the head and has amnesia."

"How convenient."

"It's a real condition." Arcade snapped. "And it bugs her, you know?"

"Did she ever search for anything bout her past? Did you?"

"Not really." Cass admitted.

The merc puffed on his cigarette as the woman beside him jotted down more notes. He said, "Someone who could juggle two full armies and a variety of tribes around such a valuable thing as the dam is not to be trifled with, but neither of you ever asked who she was, where she came from, or how she got the skillset to do all that?"

"Don't you go insulting us now…" Cassidy warned, leaning forward aggressively.

"We didn't just join up. Jessica proved herself." Arcade said defensively, "she helped us both out with some personal issues and got us out of some sticky situations."

"And not just us!" Cass said, "She helped everyone. Everyone! Every problem big and small. Jessica wants to make the world a better place for everyone. What does it matter where a person comes from if they prove themselves like that?"

Jackrum and his companions were silent, watching her carefully.

"Hmm…" said the Sheriff.

"Sounds familiar, Jackrum." The blonde woman offered quietly.

Jackrum just puffed on his cigarette, his face obscured in smoke, but Cassidy could still see his eyes, sharp and searching.

He said, "I need some fresh air," and rose to his feet. The blonde woman followed him, leaving the sheriff to watch their prisoners.

* * *

Outside the tent, the interior of Fort Bannister was bustling with activity. The last free settlement in the wasteland had expanded to three times its original size. A second wall had been built around a large chunk of the wasteland. People were growing what crops they could in the irradiated soil. Herds of Brahim were penned up as well for food, and to carry supplies on trading caravans. Children were being herded from place to place by some scientists and doctors from Project Purity and Rivet City, who were pulling double-duty as teachers. Talon Company mercenaries in black and white power armour hefted chunks of concrete and steel, constructing new homes and reinforcing the fortresses' ever-expanding defenses.

The uneasy cold war which Jackrum had manage to navigate between the Talon Company, the Legion, and the Enclave had ensured that at least the wastelanders had a few years of peace ahead of them. The Legion was powerful in its own right, but it did not have the strength to take on the Talon Company by itself. Neither did the Enclave, with the amount of gear and personnel the Supermutant war had cost them. However the Enclave was far too proud to ally itself with the Legion, whom they saw as usurpers. According to Jackrum's spies the two factions had engaged in more firefights than the Talon Company had with either of them, and they didn't look to be stopping any time soon.

Yet the Legion seemed endless. Every month more troops entered the wasteland from the west, and sooner or later they would feel confident enough to move with lethal force, rather than propaganda and diplomacy, which had been their strategy up until that point. They would move on the enclave first, and then used their advanced technology to wipe Fort Banister off the Wasteland map.

On their arrival, Jackrum had acted quickly and quietly gathering all the loyal fighters, farmers, and wastelanders he could find to Fort Bannister. He needed enough strength to negotiate peace with the Legion, buying his forces time to prepare for the inevitable. And the Legion had agreed.

But the price had been high. He had surrendered territory and people, and Jackrum worried every day that when war did once again rear its ugly head, his free city would not have the resources it needed to survive.

That it would not have the people it needed to survive.

And now the new prisoners, courtesy of certain allies Jackrum still kept around the Wasteland, had revealed that the Vox – or the Legion – whatever it was called, stretched across most of the continent. Their army was truly endless. It sounded like most of their attention was focused out west. They could afford to wait as long as they needed to – Jackrum's Talon Company, trapped on the wrong side of America, had nowhere to run.

Lucy stood beside him as he puffed on his cigarette and watched the bustling town. She leaned forwards, trying to get a read on his expression. She said, "What do you think, Jackrum?"

He grunted, "I think this Jessica sounds familiar."

"Like Jason." Lucy suggested, her voice somewhat lacking in enthusiasm.

"Or the Legate." Jackrum suggested.

Lucy raised her eyebrows.

"Tell me you don't see it, Miss West." the merc said quietly, nodding at the tent, "those two prisoners talk about this Jessica Chase the way Legionaries here talk about the Legate. The way the Wasters at Rivet City and Megaton talk about him."

Lucy said nothing, but he could tell by the way she hunched her shoulders that the thought made her very uncomfortable.

He said, "Someone like that on our side – who uses words the way Jason uses weapons – could help us a lot. You know our position, Lucy. The clock is ticking.

"It might help." She agreed carefully, "Quinn's spies spotted her being escorted to Rivet City with the Legate's Hounds."

Jackrum's eyes narrowed. "Those creeps…"

"If we want her, we'll need firepower, Jackrum." Lucy said.

He nodded, and voiced what he knew they were both thinking, "I think… I think it's time we try and contact _him_."

Lucy sighed and crossed her arms, turning away from him to look out across the farm, towards the empty wasteland. "Do you think he'll even answer you?"

"I ain't the only one who broke a promise to him, Miss West."

Lucy glanced down at the band of pale skin where her ring used to be. Her worried look turned into a scowl as behind her, the old merc struck a match. She said, "go fuck yourself, Jackrum."

The old Merc blew a cloud of smoke past her shoulder. "I had to give him the boot to keep the Vox soldiers off of us. That was the price of peace, but you…"

"That's not fair!" Lucy snarled, turned to confront him, "Kodiak was here. Jason wasn't."

Jackrum shrugged, unshaken by her anger, "Just sayin' he's been through a lot."

Lucy glared out across the length of the fort. "He called me Sarah once."

Jackrum glanced at her, eyebrow raised. "Really?"

She nodded, "even when he was there, he wasn't really _there_ , you know? Then Megaton… and his dog died, and the Vox took Project Purity and the Wasteland."

"They haven't taken it yet." Jackrum grunted.

"No one's heard from him in months, Jackrum. Not even the New Brotherhood. Do we even have a radio which can reach the entire wasteland? Do we even have a way to contact him?"

The old merc was silent, staring out across the sun bleached wastes and the deep blue sky.

"It's possible he just up and left." Lucy said miserably. "Or those two Vox hounds found him in the wasteland somewhere and-"

Jackrum shook his head, "Nah. No way those goons could take him down. No. No, he's here. It'll just take some coaxing."

Lucy sighed and patted him on the shoulder, turning back towards the tents, "well if anyone can convince to come back in it's you, Jonathon."

"Thanks Darlin'." Jackrum muttered.

"No pressure or anything." She added as she walked away, "But if the Vox is as powerful as those two say, we're kind of fucked without him."

* * *

Jessica had seen a lot of awe-inspiring prewar weapons and technology in her time, and so the sight of the beached aircraft carrier, broken cleanly in two was not impressive. Just horribly pathetic, in a way. A symbol of military supremacy, of national might and majesty from a time even before nuclear intercontinental ballistic missiles reigned supreme, left to rust away in the irradiated waters of the Potomac. As with everything in the Capital Wasteland, it was a rotting remnant of the old world. Lacking the grand vision of Robert Edwin House, or the creative industrious ingenuity of the NCR to give it life and vibrancy, it served instead as the occupied bones of a once-greater civilization.

Even so, Jessica felt grateful for the brief philosophical distraction at the sight of the old world machine; she had spent the silent trip over in a state of constant anxiety. How had this whole mission gone so awfully wrong so quickly? With the eerie dapper figures flanking her, and the gag across her mouth, she had not felt this isolated and powerless since that horrible trip to the Sierra Madre.

Where were Cass and Arcade? Were they okay? She had hoped to maybe run into them in Rivet City, but the reality of the Legion's grip on the Wasteland did not bode well for them. Jessica knew should could have simply talked them out of any trouble they were in, but as she was; held prisoner by Martin and Krupp, the Burke twins, prospects of her being able to help seemed to be growing more remote with every step she took. She eyed the bullet holes in their hats - three holes each, right in the center of their fedoras. Someone had already tried to kill them, and paid for it dearly, no doubt.

And where was Liberty Prime? If the Legion already had it they could lay waste to New Vegas in a day. Even if through some miracle she made it out of this, would she come back to see New Vegas in ruins?

The Burke clones, Martin and Krupp, knew about her power. That was the most chilling part. They knew her, and what she was capable of doing, and upon capturing her, had immediately proceeded to gag her, and tie her hands behind her back. Yet they had otherwise left her unharmed.

They had spoken to her, about her, as if they had already met. They had called her an _Immune_. A Legion Mission Specialist similar to the _Frumentarii_ spies. Is that what she had been? Had she been Legion all along? Some errand girl for Caesar?

Impossible. Jessica reminded herself that The Legion did not take women into their ranks. At least… Edward Sallow's Legion hadn't… but these new Legionaries marched under the Deathclaw head, not the Bull.

Behind Jessica marched Jericho, who had not said a word since the Citadel. The few times Jessica had glimpsed his face he had looked the same as she imagined she did: pale and disheartened.

Rivet City reared up against the Wasteland's southern skyline. Beyond it, across the channel, Jessica could see distant skyscrapers and crumbled ruins. They seemed to stretch forever. The flight deck of the beached warship was crawling with activity. Guard posts with riflemen were spaced evenly along the railing. The bridge towered above it all, festooned with sniper outposts and stations with fat man mini nuke launchers, and miniguns. Enormous black banners bearing the white deathclaw emblem hung from the railing, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind as to who controlled the city.

There was a long line of people stretching across the riverbank, all waiting to speak to the guard at the city's gatehouse and climb the ramps up to the drawbridge. Wastelanders dressed in rags. Men and women in leather armour or combat gear with all sorts of weapons. There were traders too, with pack Brahmin and guards. No doubt there to sell their goods and buy more supplies before heading back out into the wastes. Krupp and Martin ignored the line entirely and marched Jessica and Jericho past waiting throngs towards the gatehouse.

As they drew near the ramp up to the draw bridge, Jessica could hear the steady drum of marching feet. One of the dapper Burke clones, perhaps Krupp, grabbed her shoulder and held her still. As she watched, a Legionary column emerged from a nearby subway station. They marched in pairs, with a tall, broad Centurion at the head of the column, horizontal fanned plume bobbing in time with his marching feet. Behind him marched his _Optio_ – the second in command, and the Tesserarius – First Sergeant. The column seemed to take forever to exit the subway station. It must have had between eighty and one hundred warriors, their red armour shining smartly in the waning sun. Their perfect synchronous drill and spotless uniforms were hypnotically pleasing to watch, despite Jessica's dire situation. Each man carried a hunting rifle on his shoulder, and a machete at his hip. Wastelanders lined the flight deck railing of Rivet City to watch the display. Some were cheering, others looked sullen.

The Centurion barked strict orders in Latin and the column split, wheeling off to the right and left, forming smaller _contubernia_ – squads of ten each with their own _Decanus_. Their banners and helmet plums swayed gently in the light seaward breeze.

More barked orders and the hundred or so soldiers grew still, gathered in their squads. The Centurion spun on his heel and stamped, raising his machete to in salute to the enormous banners which marked Rivet City. Then he lowered his blade and marched towards Jessica. Behind him, his _optio_ took command, and began to inspect each squad, moving through the lines of the _centuria_ , commenting on uniforms and weapon conditions.

"Ave! Hail Caesar!" the Centurion barked, greeting Krupp and Martin. He raised his right hand, palm open in salute, and yet there was something in his voice… sarcasm. And the tight, grim line of his mouth also revealed that he was not pleased to see the two strange, dapper men.

"Ave." "Hail." They responded, their nasal voices sending shivers down Jessica's spine. They each responded with a salute of their own.

"What news from the wilderness, Centurion Servius?" Krupp asked.

"The Brotherhood continues to evade us." The Centurion admitted grudgingly, "We had a dozen of them cornered, but there was a bright light, and they vanished."

"Vanished…" murmured Martin.

"The Legate will not be pleased, Mister Martin."

"Not at all, Mister Krupp. We cannot be seen to be losing prisoners to the profligates and their upstart rebellions."

"This is a strange land, but we will see it brought to heel." The Centurion snapped, "I come to the Legate to resupply before we hit them again." He eyed Jessica and sneered at Jericho, "and what have the Doctor's abominations caught? A couple stray dissolutes?"

"We have recovered a Legion asset." Krupp replied evenly.

"I see." The Centurion's eyes narrowed as he gave Jessica a further examination, his deep brown eyes shrewd and calculating, yet not unfriendly. It was hard to make out many of his features underneath the heavy mask and armour of the Legion, but Jessica felt the instinct to smile at him. She winced against the tight gag which had been tied about her mouth.

"Let Caesar's might guide your blade, Centurion." Martin prompted.

"Thank you, Frumentarii." The Centurion gave Jessica one last look and marched back to his columns.

"We must hurry, Mister Martin," Krupp said, guiding Jessica up the ramp. The guards allowed them to pass without a word.

"Indeed, Mister Krupp. The Legate would not want to be kept waiting."

They crossed the bridge under the eyes of the vigilant Legion snipers, and entered the Aircraft Carrier into a small space with some stairs in the center. Signs and arrows gave directions to different areas of the ship, but Krupp prompted Jessica to climb. Even as she began up the stairs, she noted that Martin had headed off in a different direction with Jericho. Jessica wondered where they were going, and whether she would ever see the old raider again. She came to a halt and began a muffled unintelligible protest. Krupp shot her a glare, and she glared right back at him.

His expression grew into a sneer. "…protest will only endanger your friend's life."

They glared at eachother for a moment longer, but Jessica gave in, her shoulders slumping. She was unwilling to call the strange man's bluff.

As she climbed she felt apprehensions rising. Who was the Legate? Who was waiting for her at the top of Rivet City? What did the Legion want with her? What would they planning to do with her? She felt so tired of being pushed along from catastrophe to catastrophe with no control over her situation.

At the top of the stairs was a single door marked with a single sign: Bridge Tower.

Krupp grabbed the hatch wheel and turned it easily, opening the door and gently but firmly guiding her through. What followed was another short staircase and a hallway. Jessica could hear the ship all around her now; the faint echoes of multitudinous voices on the decks below, and the creaking frame of the ship itself. Its grey walls seemed to close in on her as she moved ever forward.

The room at the end of the hall was an officer's mess, with plenty of Decanus and another Centurion all seated around a table, drinking wine and eating Brahmin steaks. They greeted Krupp with mixed enthusiasm, but always respectful and deferential. Clearly regular Legionaries felt as unsettled by the strange dapper abominations as Jessica did.

More flights of stairs followed. Up and up until at last they came to a single room with a large table in the centre and a desk in the corner. A map of the capital wasteland had been mounted on the wall, with several major locations marked out upon it including Rivet City, Megaton, the Citadel, and a spot up in the far northwest labeled as Fort Bannister.

A Legionary was there, facing away from her. He was engrossed in a smaller map which had been laid out across the table, yet as she and Krupp approached he turned towards them. Jessica recognized the golden armor of Legion Legate. It was decorated in silver filigree, with red and black trimmings around the shoulders and waist.

The man had raven-black hair, cut short, and brilliant green eyes. His complexion was pale, despite the sunlight which he so clearly got every day. He was handsome as well, with strong cheeks and an affable smirk. Across his nose was a light dusting of freckles. One strong hand was still on the table, the other rested on the hilt of the ornate machete at his side.

When he saw Jessica, his jaw dropped and he went still, staring at her in awe.

"Hail, Legate Vorenus!" Krupp drew himself into another salute, but the man ignored him completely. The Legate took a step towards Jessica, who shifted nervously, not sure what to expect. The man did not look as if he was about to strike her, but he was Legion: that was reason enough to be wary.

"Jessica…" the man breathed. "Heh…" he smiled at her for a moment as if sharing a private joke just for the two of them, but then hurt and confusion flooded his wide green eyes again, and back to awe. The corner of his mouth twitched as a myriad of emotions passed through him. Despite everything, Jessica felt at ease around him. She was not in danger, she knew. Though how and why had yet to be answered.

He said, "I… I didn't… want to believe it."

"Legate Vorenus," Krupp began, "with all due respect, you should know that-"

" _Shut up_." the man named Vorenus barked, his attention solely on Jessica. Krupp's mouth snapped shut immediately, and he shot his superior a resentful scowl.

The Legate stepped forward looking her up and down compassionately. He took in her bound hands and gag, and his brows knotted in anger. He said, "Caesar's Speculatores reported that you were still alive, but I didn't want to believe it!"

Another step forward, and he placed one warm hand on her arm, the other affectionately against her cheek.

"Oh, my sister…" Vorenus said, breaking out into a smile as he stared joyfully into her eyes, "I'm so glad you're alive! We thought you had died but now you're back!" he pulled her into a tight hug, his lips against her ear, "Welcome home, Jessica! You're with the Legion. You're safe now. Welcome home!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 **I may have some characters speaking Latin to each other in this chapter. I apologize – I am not an expert in the rules of grammar for that language. I can usually scrape by in English but that's about it :). I'll do what I can to research, but I'll probably mostly be using Google translate sometimes in this chapter and in future.**

* * *

For the first time she could remember, Jessica was completely at a loss for words. She had no idea what to say to the man who was watching her with so much hope in his eyes.

His smile faltered at her lack of reaction. "…Sister?"

She shook her head and shrugged helplessly. Fear taking hold as she realized she had no idea what to say or do. The Legate's claim seemed so absurd and yet… and yet he fleet familiar. If he was lying, what was his game? Burke had mentioned a brother once. So if Vorenus was telling the truth, then what would his reaction be to her loss of memory? And where was Jericho? Where were Cassidy and Arcade?

"Legate Vorenus," Krupp said, in his slithering, nasal tone, "Legate she does not remember us."

"Vorenus glanced from the strange dapper abomination to Jessica and back. His brow furred, and he spoke with a quiet anger. "Jessica, tell me… what did those wasters do to you…"

"She has gunshot scars in her forehead, yesss…"

"I asked my sister!" Vorenus snapped, shooting Krupp a venomous glare. He turned back to Jessica, and there was nothing but honest love and gentleness in his eyes. He said, "what happened, Jessica?"

It wasn't like she could deny it. Jessica tossed her head, her dark hair sweeping aside to reveal the scars. His gaze was drawn immediately to the pale circles on her forehead. She said, "I'm sorry."

God, it felt strange, taking that tone with a Legionary. But it didn't feel wrong.

Vorenus raised a hand to her face, and gently brushed her hair further aside, leaning in to give the scars a closer examination. As he ran a thumb over the wounds, his eyes narrowed and his mouth formed a thin, grim line. "What did they do to you...?"

"I don't know…" Jessica admitted flinching a little away from his touch. Sensing her discomfort, the Legate immediately lowered his hand. She said, "I woke up in a doctor's office in a small town south of New Vegas. I don't remember anything before that."

"I don't understand." Vorenus said slowly, "what do you mean you don't remember?"

"I mean I don't remember."

"Well I…" he stared at her, his voice growing desperate. "You know your name. That's not nothing. That must mean something. So you must remember something!"

"It means I remember my name." Jessica said simply.

The legate stepped backwards, collapsing onto a nearby chair, looking miserable and absolutely devastated. "Do you remember me?"

She shook her head.

"The Legion?"

"No."

"What about… what about our childhood, growing up to the west? Hunting coyote pups and trading the pelts for Nuka-Cola?" he smiled encouragingly, leaning forward in his chair, "I'd kill the beasts and you would talk the traders into giving us extra caps. They taught you how to play cards…"

"There is no life before the Legion!" Krupp hissed.

The armoured man momentarily turned his attention on the abomination, and Jessica was reminded that he was a Legion Legate. Cold authority and angry unforgiving eyes. He spoke clearly and sharply, his tone carrying a threat. "Frumentari, Shut your mouth and untie my sister before I grow angry."

Krupp shifted and made a disapproving 'tch' noise, but he moved behind Jessica and untied her, being none too gentle in the process. Her hands finally free, Jessica shook some feeling back into her arms, and gently massaged her bruised wrists. She was getting very tired of being everyone else's prisoner. She said, "The man I came with – Jericho…?"

"Degenerate scum. He is being held in the lower decks for interrogation."

Lower decks. Prisoners were kept in the lower decks. Good information. She said, "He helped me."

The Legate's eyes widened in surprise. Pushing further, Jessica said, "He should be rewarded and allowed to return to Megaton unharmed."

The Legate watched her thoughtfully for a moment, and then nodded. "Very well. A friend of my sister is a friend of the Legion. I will see that it is done."

"Thank you." she said, and meant it. "I would like to see him before you send him on his way." The Legate's tacit permission to access the prison? Much easier than sneaking around a Legion-occupied fortress. She could search for Cassidy and Arcade while she was down there and find a way to get all three of them back to the Mojave and out of this nightmare. House's robot be damned.

"That can happen too." The Legate softened and smiled happily, though he was clearly distraught by the news, "Don't worry, Jessica. Whatever happened, what matters is that you're home now. You're among family. We'll get you a room to yourself and food to eat – the finest the Wasteland has to offer! Once you're settled in I'll give you a tour. I'll tell you everything."

Krupp began to protest. "Sir, she is an unknown, yess… her loyalties-"

"Her loyalty is to her family, damn it!" Vorenus barked, rising angrily to his feet. "Leave us."

Krupp rocked back on his heels. It was nice to see the slithery frumentari caught off-guard. Jessica turned towards him to watch as he snapped to attention and saluted. Before the abomination marched out, he shot Jessica a suspicious look. Knowing that her would-be brother could not see her face from that angle, she responded with simpering, exaggerated look of cherubic innocence.

"Abomination!" Vorenus said, planting his fists on the table and shooting Krupp an angry glare. The creature stopped at the door and turned back. The Legate continued, "you are a lesser creature. The Legion was built on the strength of Men. We fought and earned everything we have. Everything we are. All you are is what the Good Doctor's gifts made you. You're an unnatural creature, and beneath us. Never forget that."

The Abomination smiled back at him, or perhaps it was just baring its teeth. "And I am _Caesar's Frumentari_. Not Legate Vorenus's. You would do well to keep that in mind."

Vorenus straightened, glaring coldly at the creature. His fists were clenching and unclenching, but he did not speak. The door creaked closed and the Legate sighed. "I really do hate those creatures. That is not what a Legionary should be. Perhaps we should have left with Edward Sallow."

Jessica said nothing, but privately filed the information away for later use. The Legion was not as unified as she had originally thought. Every large organization had its tensions. She tried to think of a way to exploit the division, but the real truth hitting her was that even with the Legate's trust and belief in her, she was not safe here.

"So you don't remember anything?" he asked plaintively.

"No, I'm sorry. I don't remember anything." Jessica said, helplessly. She did not have to work to put frustration in her tone as she said, "Sounds and smells sometimes almost… something. But really I don't even know if 'Jessica Chase' is my real name…"

"It is! Your name is Jessica. Our mother was Penelope." Vorenus searched her eyes for a spark or a hint of recognition, and his face fell when she stared blankly back at him. For Jessica's part she was racking her brain for anything, even the vaguest hint of recognition.

Nothing.

"You know…" he told her, his eyes shining with a rekindled excitement, "Our mother came here to the Capital Wasteland once. She was a promising, skilled hunter, and extremely cunning. A long time ago our tribe's leader told her to find out what lay east."

Jessica stared, "I was a tribal?"

"I… yes." Vorenus seemed to shrink, leaning back against the edge of the table. "There is no life before the Legion, but…. Yes."

"Well…" Jessica smiled, "tell me about them! What were we called? Where were we from?"

For the first time since he had laid eyes on her, a little uncertainty crept into Vorenus' expression. He repeated, "there is no life before the Legion, Jessica. The Doctor's abomination was not wrong."

"You're right, of course. I'm sorry…" Jessica backtracked immediately. She was horribly aware that the only thing standing between her and possible rape, torture, and crucifixion was this man's misplaced love, and mistaken belief in her loyalties. She wondered what Boone would have thought of all of his.

All the same, she had to ensure that she had the Legate on her side. She said, "Can you tell me about our mother?"

"Of course. I'm glad you're curious, Jessica! She explored for many years. Joined up with a strong tribe and collected slaves for them. She traveled from Boston to Jacksonville and came back to the tribe with a fortune and slaves in tow. She was also carrying us in her belly. Caesar had elevated us by then. Added us to his Legion and brought us glory. But he recognized her extraordinary skills, and made her an _Immune_. A special rank reserved for those even above the Frumentari. He made her his right hand." Vorenus laid a hand on her shoulder, smiling with pride, "As you were. As you will be again! We just need to get you back home."

Jessica stared, her mind reeling. She recalled the small amount of time she had spent in the Western Legion's camp, speaking to their Caesar, and his generals. The whole thing had sickened her to her core. A band of raiders without the drugs which made them so unstable? A society which built nothing. Traded nothing. Made nothing grow. Had no real art or culture or purpose beyond war.

It was the first time the Mojave had ever felt like a Wasteland. Jessica had seen no future at all in it. Only pain for those pressed down under the Legion's sandaled feet. She wanted no part of it.

"You do not remember…" Vorenus said mournfully. He turned away, hand clasped over his mouth, eyes filled with grief. "I am so sorry, sister. But at least you're home. You'll stay with me. You'll stay with me and I'll help you remember everything. Then we'll find the people that did this and we will make them suffer, Jessica!" his tone grew angry and triumphant, "we will make them beg for death a thousand times before we let them get their wish. You and I, sister. We will crucify every last one of them!"

Jessica thought of Benny and felt guilt pierce her heart, and how she had tricked him, talked him into an alliance, and then found him in Caesar's camp. The ghosts of Nipton and Camp Searchlight were at her back, the stench of corpses, rotting on the rows of crucifixes, and the forlorn hollow stares of the Legion slaves. She had so easily taken Benny's gun and so left him to the mercy of men who had none.

That impulse to lie, to manipulate and betray with so little hesitation – was that Jessica House's the Courier, or Jessica the Caesar's _Immune_?

Yes, Benny had shot her. But he had been trying to protect Vegas and keep it free. If she was Legion, then what had her original mission been? Why did she carry the Platinum Chip? Had she been ordered to seize it for the Eastern Legion's Caesar? Or to strengthen Edward Sallow's little band of renegades who were camped out across the canyon?

She was certain of one thing and one thing only: A House or NCR Victory at Hoover Dam was not at all what this new Caesar would have wanted. If she did not escape from these men, then at some point she would have to reckon with that. All of this made the precariousness of her position all the more staggeringly clear. If she let on that she was opposed to this familiar stranger's plan, there was no telling what would become of her.

And what of the Divide? The community of Hopeville – running on democracy and freedom and liberty, and sitting on enough nukes to force all of America to comply.

And Jessica had walked into that town and destroyed it with a single delivery. Had that been her intention all along? Had Ulysses been right about her? Had his hatred been justified all along?

She should have died there? Should he have killed her? Did she deserve it?

"Sister? Sister are you all right?"

"I am… I'm just…" Jessica bit her lip and looked away, trying to fight back the tears that were filling her eyes. All of those innocent people – and a nation strong enough to stand up to the Legion. All of it gone because of her.

Vorenus embraced her, hugging her gently and despite the disgust and confusion, she did not push him away. She just sobbed into his shoulder.

"It is alright, sister." He said soothingly, "it's alright. I know this probably a lot to take in."

"It is." Jessica collected herself and stepped back, turning away to wipe her eyes. She had to keep it together! This was not the time! Understanding his enthusiasm for family and old memories, she turned back to him and said, "and what of our father?" her voice was much, much shakier than it should have been.

Vorenus shrugged. "She met a man in the wasteland. A stranger who traveled alone with nothing but a hat, a coat and a revolver. I do not remember much of her words about him. They traveled together for a time. He told her that her spirit burned like fire, and he made love to her, one day she woke up alone. She said she was not angry. She said they like were ships passing in the night."

"Where is she?"

Vorenus sighed and looked down at the map in front of him. "She is dead."

A faint glimmer of grief flickered in her soul. "I'm sorry. She sounded like an incredible person."

"She was." He took a long breath. "I wish you could remember her, sister."

"How did she die?"

Grief and quiet anger filled Vorenus' voice. "One of our Legions was exploring the west when they ran across an old world facility. It was run by a mad man. A scientist named Victor Presper. He is a depraved monster, Jessica."

"He killed her?"

"He told Caesar of men who wander America. Men who, over time, collect Knowledge and Power." Vorneus gave her a serious look. "New World Power, Jessica. Gifts from the atomic radiation itself. Strength. Speed. Skill beyond what humans are capable of. Even sometimes …Immortality. The Doctor felt harnessing these gifts was a way for Humanity to overcome the apocalypse and build a new future. The Legion offered him the structure to spread them across the world. Caesar was intrigued. The Doctor said that our Mother had such gifts. So he sent her with Burke - his best Frumentari, to speak with Vesper."

"Neither came back…" Jessica guessed.

"We waited three years for a word from Presper. Caesar was enraged. Ready to send ten _Centuriae_ to break down the Good Doctor's door. Then we received a gift. Abominations. Rank on rank of Burke clones with gifts for healing. Speed. Strength. Some of them, when they are close to death their genetics grow unstable and they-"

"Explode." Jessica finished his statement, "like a little nuclear bomb." O _h, Boone…_

Vorenus frowned at her, "yes. You have met one?"

"An ally of mine." Jessica told him, recalling Boone's cold hands, and the despair of the clinic's dark silence. She quickly added, "During my… illness. I made some friends, and we…" Jessica was horribly aware that she had to stop talking! Too much information! She bit her lip.

Vorenus' eyes narrowed as he watched her closely. He said quietly, "If one of your friends put one of those abominations to death I would thank him. But Jessica, what were you doing that put you up against one of them?"

They stared at each other as she raked her brains, rolling through excuses and possibilities. A way to answer the question without telling him the depths of what he would no doubt see as betrayal.

The door squealed open behind Jessica, and she breathed a sigh of relief as three Legionaries filed in. she turned to see the same centurion who had questioned Krupp and Martin outside Rivet City.

He stood half a head taller than she did, with broad shoulders and heavy, muscular arms. His helmet with its red plume was under his left arm, and Jessica was able to see his face for the first time. He was a handsome man, underneath the armour. His short dark hair, deep brown eyes, and clean-shaven, angular chin was not unpleasant.

He spotted her immediately and came to a halt. Behind him stood his second-in-command, and his first sergeant. He licked his lips and glanced between her and the Legate, trying to determine whether or not it was a good time.

Vorenus was suddenly all business, "Welcome, Septimus."

"Ave." the Centurion said, drawing himself into a crisp salute. "Hail Caesar."

"Longa sit regnum eius." Vorenus replied, with a salute of his own. "You have something to report?"

Jessica stepped out of the way, allowing the Centurion to pass her by and come up to the table. He gave Jessica a sidelong look and said, "What is a woman doing in a briefing?"

"Don't mind her." Vorenus instructed coolly, "did you engage the Brotherhood?"

"The struck at Hubris Comics, damaging our printing presses. My Centuria engaged and pursued them. We finally cornered them at Tacoma Industrial Park, but the radiation was so thick that my men could not proceed without suffering heavy losses."

"So they are still there?" Vorenus mused, his voice filled with satisfaction.

The Centurion shifted uncomfortably, "I am afraid not, Legate Vorenus. My men report that they… rose away into the sky in a tornado of light."

Jesscica and Vorenus' eyebrows both rose at the pronouncement.

"I know it sounds insane but there have been many such rumors." The Centurion added quickly. "It is frustrating. They refuse to meet us in open battle. They harry us constantly. Attack our supply lines and vanish before we can react. I would have to spread my forces too thin to defend against them."

Vorenus crossed his arms and turned to Jessica. "What do you think, Sister?"

"I have seen stranger things," Jessica replied, thinking of the Big MT, "Perhaps they have some sort of long distance teleporter. As for meeting you open battle, perhaps you should stop fighting them on their terms and find a way to draw them out."

"Hah!" Vorenus nodded approvingly.

Septimus looked insulted. "Do you think I have not thought of this? We know nothing of them! And what would a woman know of combat?"

Vorenus tilted his head to the side, smirking. "Tell me, Vorenus, how many tribes have surrendered to you?"

Jessica recognized the game her brother was splaying immediately. She had done it herself on countless occasions: setting a verbal trap. Vorenus knew who she was, and she must have had some considerable accomplishments to her name. Yet the Centurion clearly did not know her at all. An opportune way to embarrass him to make a point.

"One." Septimus hazarded, aware that he was being baited, but uncertain what sort of trap he faced, nor how it would be sprung.

"One." Vorenus agreed. He stepped to his subordinate's side and laid a hand on his shoulder, addressing Jessica. "Septimus Servius, my best Centurion, has the singular honor of being the only centurion in Caesar's Legion to have a tribal Chieftain surrender directly to him."

"Oh?" Jessica asked coyly, playing along. She leaned back against a filing cabinet, her hips off to one side _just so_ , and her arms crossed with relaxed ease.

The centurion's eyes ran up and down her slender figure as Vorenus continued. "Tell me, Septimus, the Tribe of the Many-Mountains, the people of the Blue River, and the Scalp Hunters of the Scioto River – for whom did they all lay down their swords?"

Septimus' eyes widened as he looked upon Jessica in a new light. "The Black Widow…"

Vorenus patted him on the shoulder. "Woman or not, my sister has done more for Caesar than even you, my friend."

"I have heard much lot about you…" Septimus told her.

Jessica asked her next question casually, giving him that same killer smirk. "And what have you heard about me?" _Massage my ego a little. Show me you've learned your lesson_.

She enjoyed the way his Adam's apple bobbed nervously, and the slight shade of pink which seeped into his cheeks.

The Centurion bit his lip and said, "I know that five Chieftains have surrendered their tribes, three raider warlords decimated their own armies, and a son murdered his own father for your favor." He sounded as intrigued as he did impressed.

"And for Caesar's grace and mercy." Vorenus added testily, glaring at him.

"Yes of course…" Septimus' gaze was fixed on Jessica. She stared back with welcoming, smiling confidence. The Centurion tilted his head to the side, giving her a respectful nod. "Please forgive my ill manners. It is an honor to meet the Caesar's _Immune_! Your beauty is as legendary as your skill with words. It is a rare person who can do with speech what a sharp blade and a strong arm cannot!"

Jessica waved an easy hand, "Carry on, Centurion." She made sure to pronounce the hard 'C' in the proper Legion way.

Five Chieftains? Really?

"Septimus!" Vorenus barked, finally pulling his subordinate's attentions away from Jessica. The Legate glared at him. "Have your men escort _my sister_ to Vera Weatherly's hotel and procure her a room there. Ensure she is fed and seen to by the city's doctor."

"Am I not to stay for the briefing?" Jessica asked. _I could be very useful…_

Septimus spoke immediately, "I will ensure you are brought up to speed on everything that has happened here. This is a wild, dangerous country, Miss Chase. My hope is that with you and your brother both at the helm we will tame it all the more quickly."

"Things to be considered tomorrow." Vorenus snapped. He shot Jessica a glare of her very own. Annoyed at her for playing with his soldier. He said, "After you've had food and rest. You've been through enough for one day, Jessica. As for our thinly-stretched army, Septimus, do not fret. I've requested a few more _Centuriae_ from the Legion's West Flank. Caesar shall have his prize, and the Good Doctor his Guinea pig."

The Centurion barked a few orders in Latin at his Optio, and the man stepped forward, respectfully taking Jessica's arm and guiding her towards the door.

* * *

On the far side of the Rockland car tunnel lay a derelict old-world government outpost. Walls of imposing concrete towered against steep rocky canyon walls. Giant satellite dishes dotted the tops of the concrete constructions. The surrounding rock faces had been scorched with lasers and plasma blasts; a battle between the old Brotherhood and the Enclave had taken place there long ago. Indeed, there was still an irradiated crater in the soft soil where an enclave airstrike had destroyed Liberty Prime.

The canyon was, for the first time in years, teeming with activity. The Legion had swarm3d across it like a horde of ants. Slaves wearing grey torn rags laid dry timber and heaved on strong, heavy ropes to move great balks of concrete and stone. The slave drivers in red Legion armour moved amongst the workers, threatening their charges with batons and cruel whips.

The canyon echoed loudly with the grunts of the working men, the tormented wails of the dying and suffering, and the merciless barked orders of their masters.

Atop a distant cliff, Sentinel Glade peered through the scope of his sniper rifle, the narrow circle moving slowly across the fields of slaves, from headdress to headdress. He said, "A tesserarius. Decanus, decanus, decanus, decanus, decanus…"

"First sergeant and five squads." Star-Paladin Greg 'Kodiak' Bear said quietly, writing notes into a little brown book, "and that's just what we can see…"

Glade let out a long, quiet breath through his nose, "a full centuria… They must have at least three in the Wasteland."

"One for the city, one for the north and one here…" Kodiak said, glancing at his superior officer, "That's still only around two-hundred and fifty men.

"Two-hundred and fifty well-trained soldiers with experience, discipline and a command structure." Glade replied, "That's not nothing, Greg. And if Elder Rothchild's right…"

Kodiak fidgeted uncomfortably in his grey and brown combat armour. He said, "I don't know how we're going to win this…"

"We beat the enclave and the supermutants. I'm sure there's a way. We just have to use what the Wanderer taught us: be light and fast and only hit them where they're vulnerable."

Far below, the slave workers had uncovered a set of train tracks leading into an old pre-war tunnel.

"Those openings are closing up fast." Kodiak observed.

Movement flashed in the distance horizon, light glinting in Glade's scope. "Hold up." He refocused. Off in the distance was a dust trail, rising into the clouds. At its head was a train, bright silver and curling towards them before it disappeared behind a treeless dead hill. But its passenger cars kept sweeping along behind it like an enormous metal snake, slithering across the wastes, and flashing between wisps of dust.

"You see it?" Greg asked glumly. He held up his own binoculars to have a look for himself.

"Rothchild was right." Glade murmured.

The train reappeared, chugging straight towards them. Its design was sleek, with streaking deco speed lines. A prewar marvel – a nuclear-powered highspeed train designed to carry passengers back and forth across eastern America.

The Legion had fixed it.

As it drew near, they could hear its wheels clicking away on the tracks. A light appeared in the train tunnel and the noise grew far louder, echoing ahead of the locomotive. The Legionaries began waving their slaves off the tracks as workers poured out of the tunnel mouth.

A door to the facility opened and expelled a _Centurion_ with his bright red horizontal plume, and his second in command. They were flanked by more _Decanii_ , who began arranging their squads into parade formations

"There's the greeting party." Glade grumbled.

"Rothchild _was_ right." Kodiak murmured. "Damn."

The train let out a long whistle as it slowed to a halt, its light faint in the distant train tunnel. Then there was silence. The Centuria was on full display with banners and gleaming weapons. Behind them were the slaves, forced to stand in long lines and patrolled by the whip-wielding specialists.

Calls could be heard inside the tunnel. Orders from Legion sergeants. Then came the thunder of marching feet and a long line of troops poured forth from the darkness. Glade spotted two more horizontal plumes as rank after rank flowed into the valley. He could hear Kodiak counting under his breath. The marching went on for minutes until at last the valley was filled with three times the original number of Legion troops.

"Two more companies." Kodiak said grimly as a line of pack Brahmin emerged, loaded with supplies.

"We should head out for a lift." Glade said as the three Centurions converged to speak with one another. "Rothchild and Jackrum both need to know about this."

* * *

 **And so ends the first act of this new story!**

 **I know a lot of you are probably Jonesing for some action. All in good time. Fights mean nothing if there is no time spent explaining the why of it all, and getting invested in the various characters involved. I wrote a lot of action towards the end of my last story and am very much enjoying the small character stuff which can only occur in moments of peaceful interaction. We will get there. All I ask is patience.**

 **Well with three more chapters of this under my belt and a whole slew of new ideas flooding my imagination, I finally feel like I can finally comfortably say the saga is continuing. My apologies about the delays. That writer's blockage was…considerable and it took a lot of Fallout –related fiber in my media diet to move it along! To that end I would offer up a quick shout-out to Many A True Nerd and Oxhorn both for their amazing Fallout Videos!**

 **First off a shout-out to my brother Krow Blood! Everything in this series is as much his brainchild as it is my own.**

 **Secondly thank you to all of you who have stuck with me this far. Your reviews and support are as always humbly appreciated and immeasurably valuable!**

 **Thirdly to any newcomers who stumble upon this story - I'm sure you're feeling completely lost. I tried to design this story so that anyone just stepping in now wouldn't feel too lost, but there is still a lot happening, so…**

 **All the stories below can be found on my profile. The Children of the Atom reading list reading list is as follows:**

 **Genesis – A Fallout 3 short story**

 **Modus Operandi – A Fallout 3 novel**

 **Aqua Vitae – A Fallout 3 novel**

 **Pro Posterus – A Fallout: New Vegas story**

 **Mutatis Mutandis – A Fallout 3 novel**

 **Catharsis – A Fallout 3 Christmas themed short story**

 **Children of the Atom - Part 1: Wasted Land**

 **Jesus… that's a lot more than it felt like. All the same, that should catch you up :)**

 **Thanks for reading. I'll see you all next chapter!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Jessica was escorted by Septimus' _Optio_ to a hotel in the aircraft carrier's upper decks. It was run by a woman named Vera Weatherly and her tween nephew Bryan. Vera was sweet-tempered enough, so long as she knew she was being compensated for her services. Under Legion instruction they provided Jessica with some coffee and a comfortable room of her very own. Jessica even had a hot bath, albeit in irradiated water. Some radaway and rad-x took care of that with relative ease. As she bathed, Mrs. Weatherly's Mister Handy robot laundered and pressed her clothes for her. And so she found herself feeling clean and dry and thoroughly refreshed, yet startlingly hungry.

Her room was really quite lovely, really. Rich drapes and thick carpets disguised the ageing steel bulkheads, and covered the cold floor. Moody yellow lamps set a homely, intimate atmosphere. A filing drawer stood near the door with a globe atop it. A desk was in the far corner beside the bed. It had a radio, and a complementary pencil and note pad.

Jessica found herself wandering from oddity to oddity – spinning the globe, examining the paperweight, and doodling aimlessly on the paper pad. Anything. Anything at all to distract herself from the things she had just learned.

Thankfully, it was not five minutes before Vera came by with a sizzling hot Brahmin steak, a baked potato and some boiled carrots. Two small mire-lurk meat cakes sat on the side, along with some bread. Nothing was particularly well spiced. It was all very plain, and had nothing on the types of meals the star chefs of the Ultra-Luxe could throw together, but Jessica could see the pride in the woman's eyes as she set the silver tray down before her guest, and knew from that alone that she was eating better than most people in the Capital Wasteland could dream.

Vera said, "Would you like to have a look at the drinks menu, Dear?"

"Absolutely! Thank you so much!" Jessica gave the hostess a dazzling smile, "this all smells so delicious!"

"Oh," Vera smiled back and planted a hand over her heart, "Well thank you, Miss Chase. We do take great pride in providing the very best service and quality here at the Weatherly Hotel. You won't find better anywhere in the Wasteland."

"I believe it!" Jessica said honestly.

Vera beamed. "It is so refreshing to have a guest here who isn't… shall I say… of a certain military inclination…"

Jessica was not surprised; it was unlikely that the Legionary officers spent many caps at the bar. Even so…

"I would take care who you say that to," Jessica warned, y _ou can get in serious trouble._

Vera's expression changed completely. "Of course. It's our pleasure to host the Legion. Hail Ceasar."

Jessica smiled encouragingly, "and what drinks do you have?"

"We have wine, beer, scotch, whiskey, and vodka. All by the glass or by the bottle."

"Any cocktails?" Jessica asked, mostly to keep the conversation going. Every second she did not have to wonder about her past was a blessing. The revelations were too much, and she knew she was going to have a restless night. If she ever slept again.

"Cocktails?" Vera looked bemused.

"Um… mixing drinks."

The Hostess raised a single disapproving brow. "If you're looking to mix wine, beer and vodka, you may try the Muddy Rudder in the bowls of the city. I hear at the end of every evening, young men sweep every spilled drink on the counter into a glass and dare each other to drink it.

"Oh no! No no no! Nothing so vulgar!" Jessica laughed.

Vera smiled with her mirth, "Well we do have a few odd bottles at the bar which never seemed quite right on their own. Flavorings and such. If you wish to use them up I would not mind it at all. I can use the space for stock that actually sells."

"I may visit the hotel bar later then. Thank you." Jessica said.

"Excellent! And a glass of red wine with the meal at least? On the house." Vera offered.

"That would be lovely, thank you."

"I shall have Bryan drop one by. Enjoy your meal, Miss Chase."

"And you. Have a lovely evening.

And she was left alone. Jessica leaned over the food, and picked up her fork and knife. He bent over her plate and cut into the Brahmin steak when the fires of Nipton scorched her inner eye. The knife clattered to the plate and she sighed, falling back in her chair and pinching her nose.

 _Yeeeaaahhh! Who won the lottery? I did!_

 _I want you to teach everyone you meet the lesson Caesar's Legion taught here. They stood and watched as their fellows burned. One by one._

Had she, Jessica, ever taught anyone any 'lessons' like that? The Centurion, Septimus, had said that chieftains surrendered to her. Warlords slaughtered there troops. A prince had killed his father to take the crown in her name, and swear his troops to her master.

Left with silence, Jessica was overwhelmed by her anxious fears. How many atrocities had she committed? How many lives thrown away?

Desperate for a distraction, she flicked on the radio. A sweet, wistful voice sprang forth, backed up with a nostalgic jazz tune.

 _Don't know why I left the homestead_

 _I really must confess_

 _I'm a weary exile_

 _Singing my song of loneliness_

 _The food is the spreadiest_

 _The wine is the headiest_

 _The pals are the readiest_

 _The gals are the steadiest_

 _The love the liveliest_

 _The life the loveliest_

 _Way back_

 _Way back_

 _Way back home (No place like home)_

 _Sweet home_

She flicked off the radio. Home sweet home…

Home. What did that word even mean? Day one had been Goodsprings. Day five it was Primm, where she had fixed ED-E. Days six and seven, Jessica had drowned her sorrows in the Mojave Outpost with Cassidy. Day eight… Nipton. Then three days in Novac, gaining Boone's trust and helping the Bright Brotherhood with their rockets. Then up to Boulder City, picking up Veronica along the way…

Then Benny. Then Ceasar. One thing after another after another until she found herself alone in the Divide, sneaking past marked men and running from tunnelers.

And Ulysses had called Hopeville her home. But was it? Or was it merely a Legion target? A long game for the Black Widow to play – gather opposing power and destroy it in one fell swoop, cutting the Bear's throat at the same time. That possibility made such horrifying sense.

Jessica sat back and tried to imagine not remembering a Day One. Tried to imagine spending five hundred days in one place. In one valley with a whole village surrounding her, helping to raise her.

She sliced off a chunk of the Brahmin steak and chewed it mechanically, not really registering any taste at all as she stared off into nothingness. Her meal soon disappeared, but Jessica barely registered it at all.

Why had she not questioned anything sooner? Had she even wanted to know then? Had it mattered so much? Even her pursuit of Benny now felt strange, somehow. True, she had been angry with him; who wouldn't? But that was secondary to her curiosity about the Platinum Chip, about why she had deserved death in the first place. Curiosity had driven her so far forwards, but she had never looked back at all. Not until the divide, and even then…

"Hello?" Jessica blinked, and looked towards the open door. Young Bryan was standing there with a glass of wine in his hand. "Umm… Auntie Vera said to give this to you?"

"Yes of course. Come inside." Jessica managed a smile.

The boy grinned and drew the door closed. He wandered over to her desk and set the wine down. He stood there, expectantly.

Jessica stared into the ruby red liquid.

"Ahem."

She blinked and looked up at him.

"A tip for good service?" the boy asked.

"Heh. I guess the American Entrepreneurial spirit is still alive after all…" Jessica fished out a few caps for him.

"Entraperneral. Sure." The boy said enthusiastically, "Seagrave Holmes has a Grognak comic book I want to read! Thanks Missus!"

He turned towards the door.

"Wait!" Jessica said.

"Yeah?" Bryan turned back, a tad impatiently.

Jessica swiveled in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, her glass of wine in hand. She said, "You lived in the Wasteland before the Legion arrived?"

"I sure did!" Bryan said happily.

"Would you care to enlighten me?"

"I dunno." The young boy ran a worried hand through his hair, "I got chores and stuff..."

Jessica smiled and pulled out a handful of caps, much larger than the tip she had given him. His eyes followed hungrily as she let them clink, one by one, onto the table in a neat little pile. She said, "Would you care to enlighten me?"

Bryan grinned at her, "what do ya wanna know?"

The history of the capital Wasteland was everything Jessica had expected: a sorry tale of desperation and survival against all odds. An irradiated hellscape, rife with feral ghouls, rabid, violent supermutants, raiders and mercenaries. But there was also faint, flickering islands of hope in the darkness; a passionate DJ, a particularly devoted chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel, and a dream of pure, clean water for all.

Then it had all fallen apart. The Project had closed down. The brotherhood lost its power and was left to dwindle into nothingness, and the Wasteland to follow it into the twilight. It made Jessica wonder what on earth the Legion had seen of value there, beyond the mere sight of the coastline…

Twenty years of hardship before a new hope appeared, and led them through strife and war to peace, fresh water, and even the birth of a new nation.

"The Wanderer…" Jessica asked, "tell me about him."

The boy looked dejected, "Vera says we're not allowed to talk about him anymore. Everything changed when the Legion got here. The Newspapers say he's bad. Even Three-Dog says he's bad."

Jessica leanded forward conspiratorially, "It'll be our secret." _I won't tell a soul. You can trust me…_

Bryan's eyes shone with delight and enthusiasm, "Oh okay then. The Lone Wanderer is awesome! Oh, man! It's been so long since I got to talk about him! I met him once, you know. He saved me after my parents died. They saw he's been everywhere. Seen everything. They say-"

"Who is they?"

"Just… everyone. People. Visitors. Stories from Three-Dog."

"What does the Wanderer look like?" She asked patiently.

"Like Captain Cosmos! He has yellow hair and he wears a big brown duster and a red bandana."

"A red bandana…" Jessica mused, putting the image together.

"They say he took it as payment for rescuing Wastelanders from a Supermutant slave camp!"

Jessica chuckled, "I think that might be an exaggeration, Bryan."

"Is not!" the boy shot back, annoyed, "he's a badass!"

Yet Jessica found herself smiling at his passion. Once, and oh, but it seemed so long ago now, she, Boone and Arcade had climbed the trail up Black Mountain in the middle of the Mojave. Each mutant took so many shots to bring down. They moved so quickly with such ferocity… it had been one of the most terrifying experiences in Jessica's entire life. She said, "Have you ever had to kill a supermutant?"

"No." Bryan admitted, "they kept me below decks during the siege. There's wasn't much to eat and I was really bored. I wanted to fight."

"Supermutants are very powerful and very dangerous."

"So is the Wanderer. He has a really cool gun. It shoots bullets like all the others, but you can't hear it. And he can disappear whenever he wants."

A stealthboy and a silenced weapon, Jessica mused, a powerful combination. Someone with Boone's skillset could make short work of most opponents that way. So long as he made the first shots count, he would hold a significant advantage in combat. Even against supermutants.

Jessica sipped her wine, savoring the light, tangy flavor and sweet bouquet, "Any other stories?"

"Oh, tons!" Bryan told her enthusiastically. He stopped suddenly and his eyes narrowed, "Wait… why're you so interested in him. You're with the Legion, right?"

Jessica raised an eyebrow and pointed at her Courier's duster and red beret which was lying on her bed. "Do these look like the armour of a legionary?"

"Well… no," the boy admitted, "but-"

Jessica leaned forward, once again allowing her voice to take on that special tone, "I'm not going to do anything to him, Bryan, I promise." _You can trust me, Bryan. We're best friends…_

The boy's eyes glazed over for a moment and then he smiled. "Yeah. Yeah for sure! Anyway he's super cool! He grew up in Vault 101, over by Megaton..."

The boy's words painted a grim picture of the Wanderer's life; a story of loss and grief and lonely, silent, dangerous roads. Of father's and family lost and found and lost again. Mutant hordes, raider camps, mercenaries, an entire city of slavers. Even the Enclave… all fell before him. A life of violence. And yet… at the Wanderer's core appeared to be a strong moral foundation. With every shot fired, he helped people. Time and time again he put others before himself. The Wasteland both revered and feared him. At first she had imagined someone like Craig Boone, but from the child's stories, the picture in her mind grew to more resemble Ulysses, who had so easily walked the most dangerous roads in the world.

The Lone Wanderer was an equalizer. A walking one-man answer to all the evils and injustice of this horrid place. A force to be reckoned with, as much as a person. Jessica wondered if Vorenus and Septimus truly understood what they faced.

She also learned his name: "Jason Howlett." Son of James.

"Yeah," said the boy, "But we all just call him the Wanderer."

There came a knock at her door.

"It's unlocked." Jessica called out. The portal opened with a loud squeal to reveal Septimus Servius, the Centurion from before. He was dressed in a rather simple red tunic, with a leather belt tying it together. His Machete was at his side. He cut quite a soldierly figure even out of uniform.

His eyes widened as he saw Bryan sitting on the bed, and he glanced at Jessica, "making new friends?"

"Absolutely." Jessica noted the way the boy tensed up around the Legionary. She said, "Can I help you, Centurion?"

"I thought you might like a tour of the city."

"Certainly." Jessica smiled. She gave the boy a reassuring pat on the shoulder, "thank you for the stories, Bryan! Here are your caps!"

The boy took them and left without a word, shrinking to one side as he passed by the Centurion.

Septimus watched him retreat, and then turned back to Jessica, looking confused, "You pass your time with children's tales?"

"Local knowledge." Jessica got to her feet and grabbed her beret, slipping it onto her head, and tossing her hair back behind her shoulders.

The man scoffed, "and what knowledge would a child have?"

"The Locals always know more than any of our scouts could ever report." Jessica said, walking out the door. She locked it behind her and began down the hallway. "I always talk to them first."

She wondered which Jessica was saying that – the Courier, or the Immune.

Her question was answered a moment later as the Centurion fell into step beside her. "Spoken like a true agent of Caesar."

Jessica chose not to answer at all.

"This way," Septimus prompted, "we'll visit the markets first."

As they moved through the halls, Jessica watched the way the people shrank from the Legionary. He strode through the hall like he owned it, one hand resting easily on the hilt of his machete. The residents of Rivet City moved by like ghosts around him, keeping their heads down and avoiding eye contact. As he passed, Decani and standard troops snapped to attention.

"Vorenus said a chieftain had surrendered to you." Jessica remembered.

"Correct." The Centurion said briskly. "We were fighting the Tribe of the Black Powder in a canyon near the Mississippi. A large, powerful tribe."

"Black Powder? As in gunpowder?"

"Yes. They made their own explosives, and were extremely skilled. They had dug into caves at the mouth of the valley, and killed a lot of men. My Centuria and I were sent in along with two others to try and force them out, but they had every inch of the surrounding countryside zeroed in and we could not gain a foothold."

"What did you do?"

"The other Centurions threw their men against the hills again and again, but I was not so foolish. I knew the Tribe were keeping their explosives in cave systems under the foothills. So I had my Centuria dig a series of trenches and dams and aquifers. We redirected the flow of a nearby river. Into the canyon. It flooded their caves. Spoiled all of their black powder and destroyed their home. Drove them out into the light of day, where my men were waiting. The chieftain surrendered to me there and then."

"An intelligent move."

"Septimus nodded, "I crucified his entire family for the trouble they gave us. Chained him to a stone before them so that he could watch them die. I've never liked wasting my men's lives, or watching my warriors die. I prefer my victories to have as low a casualty rate as I can." He stopped in front of a portal at the end of a long hallway.

"You don't think that might have been a little excessive?" Jessica asked.

"Excessive?" the Centurion barked a laugh, "no. The Legion exists to bring order to the Wasteland. From Chaos comes Order. From the many comes the One. Killing savages is what it takes to bring America to heel. All they understand is strength. Mercy is weakness."

"Of course," Jessica said smoothly, "but you weren't afraid of retaliation?"

"Retaliation?" he rubbed his chin, "No. If any tribesmen had struck back then their families would have been on the crosses too. If that still did not stop them, then we simply wipe them off the face of the earth. That is retaliation, _Immune_. I will not tolerate the senseless murder of good men. Each tribe is given three chances to survive. They can surrender immediately. They can have their leaders killed, or they can be wiped out. They are given choices. It is not unfair."

Once again Jessica said nothing. Septimus turned a few corners and opened up another portal. This one opened into a large interior space the size of a hanger. Which, she realized after a moment, it used to be. But the planes had been long since removed – probably scrapped for parts. What lay before Jessica was a marketplace. It probably counted as enormous by Wasteland standards, but to Jessica, who had grown used to the strip's neon signs and throngs of crowds, it was underwhelming. A pair of rough-looking figures were selling guns and ammunition in the largest booth. But Jessica also saw a clothing kiosk, a chem shop, and a full restaurant.

"You should have seen this place when we arrived. It was a den of debauchery. Young men swallowed by drugs and alcohol. It took us months to straighten it out. But now it runs like a well-oiled machine, and the people have peace. Drunkards and brawlers are flogged, whores and adulterers castrated, and thieves and murderers crucified." Septimus pointed down to the far end of the hangar, near the restaurant. Two steel beam crosses had been put up. One was empty. On the other hung a rotting corpse. Jessica tried to keep her distaste from showing.

The floor of the marketplace was patrolled by Legionaries, and once again Jessica observed that tense silence. There was speech – customers bartered with the salesmen, and over the restaurant hung the quiet buzz of conversation. But no laughter or boisterousness. People went about their business with their heads down and theirs eyes averted.

"Nightcap?" Jessica asked, gesturing at the restaurant.

Septimus shot her a sharp look, "A good soldier keeps his mouth dry and his mind sharp."

"And a good diplomat mingles." Jessica replied with a half-grin. _C'mon. You wouldn't let a girl drink alone, would you?_

She watched as the spark of suspicion faded from his eyes. A half-smile spread across his face and he said, "You are an odd one, _Immune_ , but I must set an example for my men. I will not drink alcohol."

She led him down to the restaurant, and they pulled up to the bar stools. A pretty young waitress sidled up easily, but saw Septimus and grew instantly cautious. She kept her eyes down, and quietly asked, "Welcome to Gary's Galley. What can I get for you this evening?"

"A shot of scotch and a Nuka-Cola, please." Jessica said, cheerfully placing a few caps onto the bar. Septimus looked ridiculous, sitting with his chest puffed out, and his arms tight at his sides, obviously extremely uncomfortable cavorting with the plebs. A few of the patrolling Legionaries shot him curious looks, but said nothing and did not approach. A few of the older soldiers saw that he was with Jessica, and merely smirked to themselves and went about their business.

A nuka-cola bottle was set before them, along with an ounce of scotch in a rocks glass. Jessica picked up her glass and clinked it against his bottle. "Cheers."

He raised his cola uncertainly, and took a gulp, "you are a diplomat?"

"…among other things, yes."

"But you do not favor violence." He sounded genuinely confused.

Jessica shrugged, "there are far better ways to get what you want from people. Easier ways. Safer ways."

Septimus frowned. His brow twitched as he gave this statement due consideration."

"There's a place for it in this world, I know. But I don't like it."

"What use is that? Power is expressed through violence."

"Okay… let's take your three rules, for example…" Jessica suggested, grinning enthusiastically.

Septimus smiled with her, "Okay."

"Say you tell a tribe's leader to surrender. He doesn't, so you kill him and his family."

"He has earned his punishment."

"So his tribe retaliates and attacks, and you kill all of them too."

"They have earned _their_ punishment."

"Yeah but you have no people to rule."

"Well…" the Centurion shrugged, "we have their land. Their resources…"

"Yes but no one to work the land. No one to tax. Just empty space."

"Not every tribe is wiped out. Most surrender, and are folded into the Legion."

"Yes but what happens after you conquer every tribe and there is nothing but Legion from coast to coast?"

"Then we have won." Septimus said proudly.

"Yes but then what?" Jessica pounced, "If all you can do is attacked and kill then the Legion will eat itself. Violence is power, yes, at its simplest form. At some point if you want something you've built to last, you have to be able to talk to others."

The Centurion sat back in his seat. He was giving her his full attention, watching her with a faint smile on his face.

He said, "I suppose… I am just a soldier. Those questions are for Caesar. And for you." Jessica felt her cheeks flush. She quickly brought her drink to her lips, and he did the same.

She set her glass down and said, "So why is the Legion here?"

Septimus glanced around the hangar. There was plenty of noise and everyone, including the bartender, was preoccupied with their own business. It was, oddly, a great place for a private conversation: too much noise and activity for their words to stand out. Jessica would have felt a lot more nervous speaking of it in a quiet bar, or private place where listening ears could easily hear them.

Septimus must have come to the same conclusion, because he said, "There are valuable assets here."

"Such as?" _Seemed pretty empty to me…_

"There was a robot. Its remains have been taken north for a… project. I understand there is a powerful organization up there which we need to destroy. A Frumentarius is working towards that goal."

Jessica felt ice slither down her spine; the Legion had House's robot. But at least there were other people somewhere fighting back – someone presented a large enough threat to occupy the most powerful technological weapon in House's pre-war repertoire.

"Besides, the wasteland has the Purifier. With the purifier, we can keep our Legions supplied with fresh clean water wherever they are. We can fight across tough terrain, cross the deserts where our enemies cannot. A significant tactical advantage."

"Absolutely," Jessica agreed, her heart sinking further. But she smiled at him to keep up appearances.

"It was not easy to take," the Centurion said sourly, "My Centuria was sent after our Frumentarius failed to report in. We had thought it this land was basically empty. A land ravaged by war, with a few settlements occupied by savages and nothing else but wildlife."

"I'm guessing this wasn't the case."

"You are correct. They were organized. They had a standing army with a leadership structure. The remnants of that are still alive, clumped together in a large fort in the north. They call themselves the Talon Company. They are very well armed and they always fight. These wastelanders seem to know nothing else. They are savage opponents."

She asked, "You can't simply crush them?" _I thought the Legion was stronger than that…_

"We are strong!" Septimus said forcefully, but his indignation receded as fast as it had arisen. "…but even our power has its limits. We are three hundred strong. They are half that number but they defend their home with such ferocity… if we attack we will lose a lot of men, and we will be unable to maintain order here and in Megaton. We have requested reinforcements, but until they arrive…"

"Was it just the Talon Company who gave you trouble?" it was a leading question, but Jessica wanted to get as full a picture as she could.

"No. There is a man here." Septimus said grimly. "A man I need to kill."

"Who?" Jessica asked, though she could easily guess; all conversations seemed to lead back to…

"The Lone Wanderer." He snarled through gritted teeth. A quiet madness had settled in his eyes. "He has killed… so many of my men. So many. And…" he fell silent and blinked, looking down into his bottle. "I was in charge here, before Legate Vorenus. We had orders to pacify the region and collect supplies and technology for the glory of Caesar."

"Did not go as planned."

"No."

Jessica took a shot of whiskey down and set her glass gently on the table. "Neither did my assignment here." _You can share anything with me, Septimus…_

Septimus nodded. "Nothing goes right here… I tell you, _immune_ , I've marched across the east and I've never seen a place quite like this. In other places there is an order to things. A hierarchy amongst both man and beast. Here anything can appear anywhere at any time. An endless parade of irradiated bears, or mirelurks or deathclaws or raiders and all of them will throw themselves at you in a suicidal charge. There is no knowing from minute to minute what is around the next corner. It is chaos!"

"And what of the Wanderer?"

"Our target." The Centurion said bitterly, "He was killing my fighters by the dozen. Crucifying them. We finally began crucifying wastelanders in response and he stopped. But we've never found him. Or his Brotherhood. He has gone silent, but he is not dead yet. And so my sleep is elusive."

"A man like that is probably able to survive on his own for a long time."

"I have no doubt he is." Septimus agreed. "I'll be honest with you, _Immune_ –"

"Jessica." She corrected gently.

He smiled at her, "Jessica. I respect him as an opponent. I have never before encountered such a capable warrior. He knows his terrain. He knows his tools. He knows our weapons and our limits… he uses every advantage he can. I wish every Legionary shared his cunning and skill. We would be unstoppable."

"So… how did you beat him?"

"We haven't yet. His blood has not yet wetted my blade."

"But he was a problem, now he's gone, like you said. That's at least some kind of a victory."

Septimus sighed, "I suppose."

"So how did it happen?"

"When your brother arrived, he… attacked in a different way. As you said, sometimes power takes different forms. Vorenus tried a new strategy: Isolation. We turned the population on him. Took the territory away from him. Broke his alliances. Drove him into the wilderness. Yet I know that he is alive and waiting for an opportunity."

They fell silent, considering his words. Septimus looked relieved. An expression Jessica had seen many times; people always felt better upon talking about their worries and problems. Even, apparently, Legionary Generals.

"What would you do?"

Jessica raised her brow. The question had come from nowhere.

"You'd listen a woman's advice?"

Septimus smiled, "I would take the advice of Caesar's right hand. I have decided that woman or not, warrior or not, you are an intelligent person, _Immune_. Worthy of respect, and of benefit to the Legion."

"Thank you…" she felt taken aback. To him, that was probably the highest praise he could offer her.

"So what would you do?" he asked, watching her and listening intently.

Jessica pursed her lips. The honest answer, the first which occurred to her was: Crucify more wastelanders until the Wanderer gave himself up. The Legion could find recruits elsewhere. Neutralizing such an effect threat would be top priority.

But it worried Jessica how easily that thought had occurred to her. She reminded her self that cruelty and barbarism were not what she stood for anymore, regardless of whom she might have been. She had seen enough of the Wasteland to understand the bleak suffering existence which most of the people here endured. They did not deserve such treatment. No one did. She said, "I would find something that he values dearly and hold it hostage to lure him out. Then you will either defeat him in battle, or capture or kill him. Right now, you are fighting on his terrain and his terms. That is what has to change."

As they walked back through the market, Jessica spotted a flash of colour in an old poster hanging from the wall of the junk shop. It depicted a handsome man with flowing blond hair. He was wearing a skintight spacesuit and holding an energy weapon of some kind. The bright cheerful title of the poster read: Captain Cosmos Space Station Playset Has Arrived!

She approached the counter and was met by a cheerful man in a motorcycle helmet. "Welcome to Rivet City Supply!" he said jovially, though his grin faded somewhat when he spotted the Centurion at her shoulder.

"How much for the poster?" Jessica asked.

Beside her, Septimus chuckled, "What could you possibly need that for?"

Jessica smirked back at him, "A little local knowledge."

"Ah." He gave her an appraising look. Then he turned to the shop keeper, and laid a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Fetch the poster with the Space Monkey, or suffer the wrath of the Legion!"

The shopkeeper quivered like a mouse.

Jessica pinched the bridge of her nose. "Does ten caps sound reasonable?"

"For that old thing? Absolutely." The wastelander let out a sigh of relief, and retrieved the poster for her.

"What do you hope to learn from it?" the Centurion asked as he escorted her back to her room.

"Not sure yet." Jessica murmured, staring down at the face of Captain Cosmos and trying to imagine what the man would look like standing before her in a duster and a red bandana.

He said, "Well let me know when you learn."

* * *

Many wastelanders believed that there was nothing of value in the northwest corner of the Wastes. Many of them reached Old Olney and decided that there was nothing but deathclaws and Rad Scorpions. It was one of the last unknown areas in the Capital Wasteland. Here be Monsters…

This of course, was not quite true. Tucked away in the flat, sun-beaten desert was a small fenced-off compound. During the supermutant war, it had been raided, and its inhabitants murdered or taken to be added to the Supermutant's army.

Sometime since, the empty buildings had been reoccupied. The fences rebuilt and expanded. The animal pens stocked with molerats and Brahmin. A small, but productive garden had been planted around the back. It grew corn and potatoes. A small water purified chugged away, bringing clean, fresh cool water up from the ground both for the garden, and the compound's occupants.

They were an odd bunch. A young man in patched waster rags was gently but firmly milking one of the Brahmin. A supermutant tended the garden, handling each flowering plant with love and care. A young African-American woman in a red jumpsuit was crouched on the ground in front of the water purifier. She had a set of tools spread out beside her, and she was elbow deep in the machine. A guard post with a slanted shade roof had been set up on the southwest corner of the compound. It was patrolled by a ghoul with a sniper rifle, who watched the west for death claws, and the south for other human beings. A child could be heard, fussing and crying in one of the shacks which dotted the edge of the compound and a soft male voice attending to it.

The compound was a peaceful place, and tucked away as it was, it received almost no traffic or visitors. Which is why it came as a surprise to the ghoul sniper when human shapes melted out of the yellow and blue desert mirage. He watched them for a moment – black dots on the horizon. He raised his sniper rifle, resting it on the sandbags and thick concrete divider which served as cover.

Through the scope he could make out glinting machetes and the long barrels of hunting rifles. Red armour made from repurposed sports gear, and the distinctive headdress of the leader told the ghoul all he needed to know. There were ten of them in total.

He turned into the compound, "Red. Hey, Red!"

The young woman at the purifier swore quietly and pulled away from it, crouching on one knee and wiping her hands absentmindedly on her jumpsuit. "What is, Quinn?"

The ghoul named Quinn pointed out at the approaching figures. "Legion patrol!"

Red's annoyed look vanished instantly. She rose to her feet and rushed to the Brahmin pen. "Shorty, Legion incoming! Go tell Leo to hide in his hole."

"Fuck!" the young man let the vexed Brahmin go, and jumped the fence into the Garden. "Leo, Legion patrol. Get to the basement."

The supermutant rose to its feet and crossed over to a trapdoor hidden behind a bush at the rear wall of the compound's central building. It lifted the doors open with practiced ease and vanished underground, shutting the trapdoor behind it.

By now the alarm had been raised across the compound. More people appeared – six in total, exiting from various buildings. Two of them were ghouls. They each carried assault weapons and hunting rifles of their own. They took up positions inside the camp, crouched behind crates, sandbags, barrels, and tires. The junk looked inconspicuous until one realized that it cleverly kept the residents hidden from outside view, but protected and ready to rise and turn the front gates into a killzone of overlapping fields of fire. All of their weapons were in perfect condition, and hidden inside each piece of cover were crates of ammunition. The residents handled their weapons with care and precision, and moved with the telltale automation of a well-trained militia.

A man exited the largest building, carrying a Chinese assault rifle. He was lean, with broad shoulders. His clothing consisted of a merc adventurer outfit, with a green cotton shirt, a leather vest, knee pads, elbow pads, and a brown bandolier full of ammunition. His long blonde hair was kept back by a headwrap. Between that, the highway patrol sunglasses, and the thick beard he sported, one could hardly make out any of his actual facial features. Nor the colour of his eyes. The other residents paused to let him pass, before continuing on with their own preparations.

He stood at the gate, the militia behind him well hidden. The compound looked inconspicuous enough, and the Legion patrol approached with their weapons held loosely in their arms. Their sergeant, the decanus with the headdress, approached and waved, greeting the man on the other side of the fence.

"Ave, dissolute."

"Hello." The waster said, his voice strained, and his fingers tightening against the assault rifle in his hand.

The Decanus took a moment to examine the compound, with its heavy walls and fences, and the ghoul sniper perched on his lookout tower. The wasteland around them was silent, save for the rasping whisper of dust clouds carried by the wind. The Legionary turned back regard the man on the other side of the gate. A combat knife was at his belt, well used and well maintained.

"What do you want?" the man asked shortly.

"I am Sextus Aventius - Decanus of the seventh Contubernium of the fifth Centuria of Caesar's thirteenth Legion,

The man looked unimpressed, "James Fletcher. What do you want?"

"We've been sent to carry the message of Caesar's peace to all of his subjects across the Capital Wasteland."

"Then speak your message and leave."

The decanus glared at him. "Take care, wastelander. You are a citizen of the Empire, now. You must treat your betters with respect."

The stranger's lips twitched. His jaw was tight, mouth drawn into a thin, angry line. "My apologies. Please enlighten us."

"How many of you are in this compound?"

The wastelander paused for a moment, considering his answer. He said, "around a dozen or so."

The decanus pointed up at the ghoul, "you give safe harbour to abominations?"

"We take in strays. If a man comes to our gates seeking food and water we help him."

"That thing is not a man."

"I respectfully disagree." The wastelander answered immediately. Up on the perch, the ghoul let out a soft growl, glaring down at the legionary.

"That is not a choice you have the right to make anymore, wastelander," The decanus said, "have your people stand that I may address them properly."

"I am standing. You can talk to me."

"Hmmm… You are testing my patience, wastelander."

"Speak your piece."

"You are all now subjects of the Caesar…" the decanus reported, "This conveys many benefits. As citizens, the men of your… dwelling… may own property, buy and sell slaves, and join the ranks of Caesar's glorious Legion to seek glory and adventure!"

Silence.

The wastelander shifted his Chinese assault rifle, holding it up with is right hand so that its butt rested in the crook of his elbow. He used his left hand to scratch at his beard.

This not being the reaction he expected, decanus grunted and shifted uncomfortably. He continued, "being subjects you are now guaranteed His protections against the dangers of the world. The Legion is here for your safety."

"We just want to be left alone, friend." The wastelander said quietly.

"We have conquered this territory, waster. You have the guarantee of Caesar's protection, however if you disobey His laws, you will be punished accordingly."

"We just want to live our lives in peace. You go do your business and politics and war somewhere else."

"I am honor-bound to uphold the law. The harboring of fugitives or abominations is illegal." The decanus nodded at the sniper in his perch, "If I come back here and I see ghouls, or anything else, I will be obligated to destroy them and anyone protecting them."

"Leave. Us. Alone."

As citizens you will be expected to pay taxes, and your children will be trained in the ways of the Legion-"

"Go away."

The decanus let out a huff, "I have been more than patient with you, waster. More than reasonable. I can come back here with five times my number."

The waster said nothing, but carefully reached to the bolt of his assault rifle and pulled it back, letting it slide forward, chamber a round. The clean click-clack of the well-oiled mechanism rang out across the desert. As one, the nine legionaries raised their hunting rifles, all pointed at him. In the compound, the other wastelanders appeared, each of their weapons sighted on a member of the Legion scouting party. Finding themselves suddenly outnumbered, the legionaries' wavered, and shifted in uncertainty. The wastelander tilted his head to the side, sunglasses flickered in the bright morning sun. In the compound behind him, the woman named Red watched through a gap in a pile of tires. She let out a long, worried breath, and glared at the back of her leader's head.

The Wastelander and the Decanus watched eachother carefully, each daring the other to make a move. The decanus began, "we do not have to fight today. I have come in peace, bearing good news-"

"And you can still leave in peace. It is all we want."

"And you may have it… so long as you do the right thing and obey the law."

"The law isn't always right."

"The punishment for this kind of impudence is slavery and death! Caesar has razed settlements for speech such as this. Will you not think of your people?"

"I think I've said my piece."

The Decanus took stock of the situation. His men were outnumbered by a full third as many people, all of whom were better armed with automatic weapons, and stationed defensively behind cover. Whereas his own patrol was a mere nine other men, all with hunting rifles and standing clumped in the open. He said, "Very well then I leave in peace."

"Good choice."

The decanus made to turn away, but looked back for one last time and said, "we will be back, wastelander. Do not be here when we return."

The waster stepped up to the fence. He carefully reached up and removed his sunglasses to reveal striking blue eyes, alive with cold rage. He said, "bring ten more men. Bring a hundred more men. Bring Caesar himself and I'll say the same fucking thing: Leave me alone!"

As the decanus and his patrol melted back into the desert, the wastelander looked up to the ghoul, "keep a weather eye out, Quinn."

"Always."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **I made an error last chapter. A few of them in fact, but the big one was that The Republic of Dave, where the Lone Wanderer has set up his compound, is east of Old Olney, not west.**

 **I confess that going over the last few chapters, I'm seeing a lot of little errors and issues that I could solve if I spent a little more time out of the gate on these.**

 **Here's the thing: the honest truth is that this is the first time in years I've had this much gas in the tank. I had crippling writer's block for ages, and now I am terrified of stopping or slowing down, even to do a quality edit. Mutatis Mutandis took me years to finish, and if I ever get held up like that again, I might never finish at all. I'm not getting paid for this; it is passion alone for this franchise which keeps me going. I don't want to risk that right now. It's precarious.**

 **Sorry if this note comes across as pompous or self-absorbed at all. I just want to tell you how it is…**

 **So here's the deal: if you guys can tolerate a few spelling/grammar errors and the occasional lore-related flub, I'll do my best to keep pumping out these chapters and whole books as fast as I can so that we all get to see how it ends. Deal?**

* * *

"How many?" Jackrum asked, his voice hollow.

"Another two companies." Glade told him, standing at the head of Fort Bnnister's map table.

"And counting," Reginal Rothchild said tersely. Sheriff Simms and Lucy West were there as well, both wearing grim expressions. The Elder continued, "They have a Mag-lev train running from the Rockland tunnels out west to who knows where. They could funnel companies in every week if they wanted to."

"Many more than this and they're going to outnumber actual Wastelanders…" Jackrum observed quietly. God, he wanted a cigarette so bady, but he had forgotten them in his bedside cabinet. He had to admit, being woken up at two in the morning for news like this felt like the worst alarm call since whatever poor bastard had slept in on October 23, 2077.

"What they hell do they want with us?" Simms asked, in his deep, growly voice, "we don't have any massive technology outside of the Purifier. We don't have a great number of people. The Wasteland is called The Wasteland for a reason…"

Jackrum bit his lip, staring down at the map. He said, "Lucy, go get that scientist guy from lockup."

The woman nodded and exited immediately.

"We have the purifier." Rothchild suggested.

"No we don't. They do." Jackrum replied shortly, "and we ain't in any position to take it back."

"Enough blood's been spilled over the damned thing. I'm almost tempted to say let them have it…" Glade said.

"Amen." Simms agreed.

"So… what, then? The Enclave already raided that fort up north…"

"Thank god Jason sabotaged all the Nukes." Rothchild said fervently.

Jackrum smiled to himself. From what he'd heard, the Wanderer had left one to go off if mishandled at all. One night some months ago, there had been a bright light a long way off. Every Geiger counter in the wasteland had ticked up a storm for two weeks after.

The door opened and the tall, blond, fidgety doctor was pushed into the room, followed by Lucy, who closed the door behind her.

"Arthur, right?" Jackrum began.

"It's Arcade. Arcade Gannon." The man corrected irritably, adjusting his glasses.

Jackrum chuckled, "I don't care. Tells us about the Legion, Arthur."

The man straightened his lab coat and glared at him, "If you want me to give you more information, then I want Quid Pro Quo."

"Is that… Latin?" Rothchild asked. Glade laid a hand on the grip of his pistol.

"Oh, you can talk like the Legion?" Jackrum inquired, with faux gentility.

"Maybe he's one of'em." Simms said.

"Should we shoot him?" Lucy asked.

Arcade sighed, "Look, this might shock you heathens, but Latin actually predates the Legion by thousands of years. If you want more information, I want some of yours. Let's trade."

Jackrum stared at him for a moment, and then sighed and looked back down at the map. "Simms…"

The Sherriff of Megaton turned to the prisoner and punched him across the face, causing his glasses to fly off into the corner of the room. Simms followed up with heavy blow to the gut, and planted the struggling man's face against the table. No one made a move to help him.

"If you'd like a deal," Jackrum told the struggling prisoner, "I'll give you a good one. Tell us what we need to know, or we'll kill you. If you can't help us, then you're of no use. You and your lady friend Cassidy are just two more mouths to feed. Except you guys aren't Wastelanders at all, which means keeping you fed and watered and healthy is not high on my priority list. Understand? I can order my men to shoot you both. Then we use your body parts as bait to attract molerats and yao guai and wild dogs and things we actually _can_ eat. You are as valuable as you decide to be. Does that sound fair, Arthur?"

Arcade coughed. A shining welt was developing across his cheek. "Fine." He spluttered, spitting blood across the map.

Simms let him go, and he took a moment to collect himself. The Doctor glared around the room, "You people and the Legion deserve each other."

Simms made to hit him again, but Jackrum raised a hand. "We do what we need to survive around here. Keep talking. What do the Legion want with us? Why are they here? Are they after the water purifier? We don't have much of anything."

"The Legion don't use technology. At least… not the ones out west." Arcade said, using his sleeve to pat at his bloody lip. Rothchild reached into his robe and passed the man a handkerchief.

"So what, then? Supplies?"

The doctor shook his head, "they conquer because they can. They're psychopaths. They want glory and power. They move into new territory, take control, and kill anyone who resists them. They cleanse the area by killing all the ghouls, supermutants, deathclaws, and other monsters they can find. Eventually all local men of fighting age are inducted into the Legion's armies. The strongest of the women and children are sold off as slaves and everyone else is just… there to support and supply them. If you can grow crops you can bet they'll plant a _centuria_ here to run a slave plantation and send the food west to the Front." Arcade shrugged, "That's… that's just what they do."

The room was silent. Jackrum pushed off the table to stand up and look the prisoner straight in the eyes, "and that's what we got comin' down the pipe at us?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Has anyone ever won?" Glade asked, "Has anyone beaten them?"

"The NCR is holding them off out west right now. Advanced technology. Heavy use of guns and high explosives. They've won a few battles that way, but..."

"But what?" Simms asked.

Arcade sighed, "But… they just keep coming. They're fanatics. Every Legionary soldier is prepared to sacrifice his life for Caesar. They aren't afraid to charge into minigun fire, or risk life and limb. You kill one and two more take his place."

Yet again, the room was filled with grim silence.

"Thank you, Arcade," Jackrum murmured, "you've been very helpful."

The man was escorted out.

Rothchild said, "Jackrum, we need to talk about strategy here…"

"Oh god, don't start with me, Reggie."

"Elder Rothchild, thank you very much." The older man said indignantly, "You have troops. Supplies."

"And innocent men, women and children. Non-combatants. Families." Jackrum shot back, glaring at him, "You know our situation, here. We can't hit and run like you! We provoke them, they'll bring holy hellfire down on this fort. And it sounds like they have the numbers to take it now. If they don't then they will soon. Even meeting with you like this is a risk. You know that."

"Have you contacted the Wanderer?" Glade asked, "we could really use him."

"I put out a radio beacon." Jackrum said, his fingers twitching – god, he needed a cigarette! "No answer yet. And the longer it's going, the higher the chances that the Legion hears it and comes knocking on our door."

"No answer at all?" Glade sounded genuinely surprised.

"I think he's done with us," Jackrum told him, as Lucy looked away, he cheeks growing bright red.

"We don't know where he is. After Megaton and getting kicked out of here, he's checked out. He's done with us…" Jackrum said, "we're alone."

* * *

For breakfast, Jessica stopped in once again at Gary's Galley. The atmosphere in the marketplace had changed significantly. Both doors on either end were open, and the smell of fresh air and sea salt filled the space. Wastelanders of all sorts were milling about, as much for the social benefits as for any actual business.

Jessica had sat herself down at a table near the kitchen, where she could see everyone's comings and goings. She was served some fresh cool water, and a plate of bread, fried Brahmin slices, and mirelurk eggs. An adequate breakfast, even if the Brahmin possessed a strange, earthy taste.

As she ate, she listened to a radio, planted on the bar nearby.

" _Hellooo capital wasteland, Three-Dog here – speaking for Vox Populi. The voice of the People! Now don't worry, children. I won't keep you from your music too long, but I'm comin' at ya with some neeews! The Legion is once again workin' hard for your safey and security. Your brave boys in red are reaching out to remote communities across the Wasteland, from Girdershade to Canterbury Commons and beyond to give them all the good news._

" _A Mirelurk nest on the riverside was cleared out yesterday by a group of Legion soldiers. Two soldiers were sadly killed in the operation, but now the riverside is open once again for caravans and trade. Soon, all the Wasteland will be monster-free!_

" _Still no sign of that abominable aberration, the Lone Wanderer. Legion soldiers have searched high and low, with no success. Any Wastelanders with information are encouraged to come forward – think cash rewards, people. A room at the Weatherly Hotel. A one-way ticket out west to a better world! Whatever you want. The Legion is generous, and here to help!"_

With an angry noise, the bartender reached out and shut the radio off.

"Not a fan?" Jessica asked, cutting into a mirelurk egg.

The blonde woman gave her a suspicious look, "could just use some silence is all..."

Jessica reminded herself that she had been there just the previous evening with a Legion Centurion. The woman probably didn't trust her enough to share her inner thoughts. Jessica said, "I hear the DJ used to be a little different… do you know what happened?" _Just making friendly conversation…_

The woman blinked, and then gave her a nervous smile, "Well I mean… Three Dog used to like the Wanderer. We all did. I wouldn't have married my husband if it wasn't for him. Now he says the Wanderer is terrible, and so do the new papers the Legion was putting out. I don't understand what changed… I don't know what to believe. I thought the Wanderer was a good guy."

The hair on the back of Jessica's neck prickled, and she twisted in her seat. In the darkness up the stairs on the platform behind her, and she spotted one of the Abominations – either Krupp or Martin, standing at the railing. He had taken off his fedora, to reveal a closely-shaven head, and was observing the entire galley quite closely. As Jessica watched, he glanced in her direction, an ear cocked.

Jessica quickly looked back at the young woman and said, "The Legion is here to help you. The Wanderer is a Savage. Savage men seem good in savage times, but things are better now, and he has no place here." _Trust the Legion. They will bring you a better world._

"Yeah…" the barmaid said slowly, "Yeah I guess you're right. Never really thought of it that way before."

"You gotta protect your own." Jessica told her, "That's just how it is…"

"Yeah… Yeah you're right." The woman wandered off to take an order from another customer.

Jessica finished her breakfast and rose to her feet, making her way across the marketplace. She had set herself the goal of exploring Rivet City. She wanted to find the prison cells, and maybe gain some intel. As she walked, she was aware of the Abomination shadowing her from the darkness.

She found a set of stairs on the other side of a portal on the north end of the market, and proceed down, level by level.

Quiet footsteps followed, keeping pace a floor above.

Jessica headed through the nearest portal and entered a maze of tight hallways. People brushed by left and right, heading from one place to another. It became clear that someone somewhere, either Vorenus or Septimus, had informed the Legionaries in Rivet City of who she was – or who she had been, at least. The guards stood aside as she passed and saluted. "Ave. True to Caesar."

It was unsettling, to say the least. Yet Jessica couldn't help but enjoy the sense of power that it brought. She knew the kind of discipline and mad loyalty the Legion fostered in its warriors. These men would die for her if she ordered them to. They would kill for her as well. It was heady feeling.

Not that she wanted any of them to, of course. She didn't want any of them to die. But still…

She stopped one of them and said, "Ave, Centurion. Where are the prisoners kept?"

She had to find Cass and Arcade. And Jericho as well if she could.

"This way, _Immune_." The Legionary led her through the crowds, and around several corners. She glanced backwards and spotted a fedora amongst the throng behind them.

What would she do once she found her friends? The question had been nagging at her. They needed a way to get back west. Jessica knew she could probably talk the Legion in to giving her safe passage out of the Wasteland, but the moment a Centurion or Legate came along who knew what she had done at Hoover Dam, her good fortune would come to a rapid, sticky end. Krupp and Martin were already suspicious.

No, she couldn't stay with them. She needed to find a way past them. Perhaps they could pose as guards for an independent caravan, get to the Colorado River and sneak across. Perhaps should could find someone to repair one of the long-range Vertibirds and they could simply fly back over the top.

"Here we are, ma'am." The soldier directed her through a short hallway, which was heavily guarded by four Legionaries carrying combat shotguns. They each came to attention and saluted. At the far end was a large, two-story room with a catwalk around the upper floor. An old-world military jet hung suspended from the ceiling. The catwalk was patrolled by more soldiers, with Chinese assault rifles.

The perimeter of the floor below was lined with cages, some large and small. Wastelanders of all kinds were locked inside. The prisoners had been provided with nothing more than buckets to relieve themselves in and the stench was palpable. No one had washed in weeks. Jessica began scanning the cages, searching for a telltale sign of Arcade's white lab coat or Cassidy's rattan cowboy hat. As she watched, a decanus, flanked by four armed guards unlocked one of the larger cages and brought out three raggedy, malnourished ghouls. They moved across the prison floor in a line, with the guards flanking. Jessica stopped them on the catwalk, addressing the decanus.

"Where are you taking these people?"

"Hail, _Immune_. The abominations are being taken to the flight deck for execution."

Jessica bit back her first question. Asking why would only get her into more trouble.

She addressed one of the ghouls, a female in a torn sundress "What's your name?"

"I'm Carol," The woman rasped, "can you help us? Please help us!" Her arms and chest were bruised. Normally a difficult thing to spot on a ghoul, but Jessica could see the scabs and darker patches underneath the woman's leathery skin.

Jessica turned back to the decanus, "What if they have information?"

The soldier looked confused, "But… they were already interrogated, Ma'am."

"By whom?"

"I did," a voice intoned behind her. Jessica turned, knowing who it belonged to, but dreading the sight of him all the same. The abomination in his dapper pinstripe suit was at the railing, grinning, with his grey skin and dead, milky eyes. "The creatures know nothing. And we are to cleanse the world of their kind."

"And some day that means your kind too, right?" Jessica asked him, smiling pleasantly.

The abomination hissed at her, but she stood her ground, "are you Krupp or Martin? I can't tell you apart."

"Martin."

"Doesn't sound like a Legion name, does it?" she asked, playing for time and trying to think of a way to save the prisoners. Together, she and Martin were blocking the exit.

"It is a cover name. What is your point, _Jessica Chase_? Are you going to let our soldiers do their duty?"

Jessica turned back to the ghouls. The man behind Carol was wearing a Robco mechanic's jumpsuit. His nametag read Winthrop. He was probably a handyman. And the Legion had handcuffed his hands in front of him.

She said, "what's your name?"

The ghoul glared at him. I'm not telling you a fucking thing!"

The guard behind him rammed the butt of his rifle into the ghoul's stomach, driving him to his knees. Jessica saw her opportunity and took it. She slipped her hand into her pocket, where she always kept a few bobby pins, and knelt down beside him, making sure to block her hands from Martin's view. As the ghoul was already leaning over, the guards couldn't see it when she slipped one of the bobby pins into his hand. She put her other hand on his shoulder and said, not unkindly, "it would be best if you cooperated. We can do this quickly, or make it last. Your choice…"

The ghoul's fist closed over the bobby pin, and he looked up at her in shock.

"Your life is at an end, ghoul." She told him, grabbing him under his shoulder and lifting him back to his feet, "there is no escape. Make your peace with that." She turned back to the Decanus. "Carry on with your assignment, Legionary."

The line continued along the catwalk and through the door. Martin stood aside to let them pass. Jessica gazed at him, steady as a rock. She said, "do you have something to say to me, Mister Martin?"

Pale lips stretched over yellowing teeth. "I am just here to interrogate more prisoners. I have a certain gift."

"I'm sure you do." She stood aside for him, and after he passed, let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.

"I was just wondering, though…" Martin turned back and bared his teeth in what might have been a smile. Jessica's relieved breath died in her throat. He said, "Why would a Legionary _Immune_ be wearing a First Recon NCR beret?"

Jessica stared, working furiously though a range of excuses and counter arguments. She said, "spoils of war."

"Indeed?" The dapper, spidery man grinned at her, "the Legate and Centurion have been here a long time. News from the West is hard to come by. Not so for my brother and I. Enjoy your day, _Courier_."

The blood drained from Jessica's cheeks as he turned on his heel and walked away. He stepped lightly down the catwalk stairs and into a side room. After a few moments, and protesting prisoner was dragged in behind him and the door closed.

Jessica took a long breath, trying to control her pounding heartbeat. She ripped Boone's beret from her head and stuffed it in a pocket of her sleeveless duster. She felt naked. Exposed, as if her secret were written on her forehead. She half expected an alarm to sound; Legion voices around her to cry out "seize her!" but none came. The prison guards maintained their strict patrols. A cry of agony echoed behind the closed door of the interrogation room, and all prisoners flinched and shifted miserably in their cells.

As Jessica circled, searching the cages, she heard a voice cry out, "Boss! Hey, boss!"

A waving hand caught her eye and she spotted Jericho. He was alone, sitting on his butt in a smaller cage, with his hands around his knees. She descended to the prison floor and made her way over to him.

"Hey boss! Good to see ya!"

"You too!" Jessica replied enthusiastically.

He leaned forward, crawling on his knees to the wall of the cage, and gripped the bars. "Can you get me out of here?"

"Yeah. One second…" Jessica searched the prison for the telltale red plume of a prime decanus. Several desks had been set up at the far end of the room, close to the interrogation chamber door. Soldiers marched back and forth between scribes at the desks and a battery of nearby filing cabinets, tracking the prisoners on paper.

The decanus was a scarred, older man with graying hair and an enormous bald spot. But she could see by his shape and bearing that he was not used to a desk job. Vorenus was no fool. He had put an experienced, loyal man in charge of the prison. The man greeted her as Jessica approached the desk, "Ave, _Immune_. How goes your morning?"

"Well, thanks." Jessica said, "I'd like to talk to you about releasing a prisoner."

"The Profligate?"

"That man helped me when I arrived here. He is _Amicus_. Friend of the Legion."

The decanus shook his head, "I apologize, Ma'am. I can only release prisoners on the Legate's authority."

Jessica frowned, "He hasn't passed word down to you yet?"

He gestured at an empty slot in his in-tray, labeled as 'To Be Released'.

Jessica planted her hands on her hips, "I know he intended to. He told me as much."

"Sorry ma'am."

Jessica sighed and tossed her hair. She said, "Look, what's your name?"

"Pontius Lutorius. Decanus of the fourth Contubernium of the twelfth legion,"

"And you're the man in charge?"

He gave her an apologetic look, "Yes. I would rather not get in an argument, but I know my orders. If you can get a signed order from the Legate I will approve his release."

She leaned against his desk and gave him a friendly smile, "Pontius you spend all day taking care of each and every single one of these profligates, dissolutes, abominations and savages. Managing food, rations, the buckets… keeping this whole operation running. I can take one of them off your hands right now." _You're a hard-working, honest man. I respect that. Let me make your job a little easier…_

The decanus sat back in his chair and glanced over at Jericho, who was watching them carefully. He said, "One less is one less I suppose… and you'd take full responsibility?"

"Absolutely." Jessica promised.

Pontius sat back in his chair for a moment, considering his options. He ran a hand down his beard and said, "alright. Alright fine." He opened his desk and produced a report of some kind which was signed, stamped, and handed over to her. "Present that to the prison guard over there. But both our asses are on the line if he does anything."

She gave him a smile, "I really appreciate it." she bit her lip, "Would you mind if I had a look through your files?"

"Umm… why?" he stared at her.

"I have my own reasons for being here, decanus."

"Looking for someone?"

"Two people. A blond man in a lab coat and a woman in a cowboy hat. She'd have been pretty mouthy. Ring any bells?"

"No. Can't imagine she'd have lasted long if she was, but I don't remember anyone with a cowboy hat." He muttered. He pointed back to the filing cabinets. "Prisoners files are in alphabetical order by last name if you want to have a look. No rule against that."

Jessica thanked him and slid the old filing cabinets open drawer by drawer. There were no entries under Gannon, nor Cassidy, yet Jessica felt her heart sink as she slammed the drawers shut in frustration.

Where _were_ they? She scanned the prison again in vain, hoping aginst how she would suddenly spot Arcade's blonde hair, or hear some of Cassidy's deadpan snark. Yet all she saw were strangers. And Jericho.

At least she could do something about him.

* * *

"You have been oddly silent, my friend!" Leo said, picking up a bottle cap which was serving as a checkers piece, and bouncing it over Jason's, capturing two of his. The two of them were seated in the common area of the compound's town hall.

The former Wanderer stared down at the board. "Not much to say."

"I hear you were quite confrontational with our gentleman caller this morning."

Jason stared down at the checkers board, not seeing it, "He threatened us."

"And I'm sure you threatened him back."

"What the hell else was I supposed to do, Leo?"

"Talk?" the Mutant suggested gently, "be diplomatic?"

"Then they would have taken the shirts from our backs!"

"And you could be thankful that they have new shirts."

Jason looked up at the mutant and scowled, "That's your answer, Leo? Just give up? That's stupid."

"It is not giving up…" the Mutant reasoned, "it is just… redefining Victory so that it is always on your terms. One can never lose so long as you decide what Victory is."

"Yeah? Well it sounds a lot like losing, to me." Jason glowered at the board.

The supermutant leaned back in his chair and tilted his head to the side, considering his angry friend. He said, "You may chain my leg."

"What are you talking about?" Jason snapped.

"An ancient philosopher named Epictetus once wrote 'You can chain my leg'."

"Jason picked up a cap and jumped it recklessly into a group of Leo's pieces. "I don't get it."

"You may chain my leg. Epictetus was born a slave." The Mutant jumped Jason's cap and carefully removed it from the board. He continued, "Being a Stoic Philosopher, Epictetus understood that life is sometimes just chaos, and that we do not always get to decide what our fates are. All we can actually control is how we choose to react to that chaos. He knew that if we always made the most virtuous choice in life, then no matter what befell us, we would be good and virtuous and therefore happy. And a man who is satisfied that he has always done the best he could for himself and others will always be happy, no matter what befalls him. Whether he be a free man or a slave. He is able to take all that life throws at him on his own terms. He chooses what Victory is and no one can take that from him."

"Sounds like he was finding excuses not make things better. Not to fight."

Leo said, "I said he was born a slave, my friend. He died a respected Philosopher, school teacher, community leader, and a free man. Just a little food for thought."

Jason stayed silent, staring at the board.

"I heard a broadcast yesterday." Leo said, "Commander Jackrum and the Brotherhood want to talk to you."

"No."

"My friend-"

"No!" Jason snapped. "I'm done with it. Fuck them."

"The Wasteland is still your home, Jason." The mutant chided mildly.

"My home ends at the boundary of that god-damned fence!" Jason jabbed a finger at the door. It suddenly opened, ushering in rays of sunlight and a small amount of dust. Red stepped through, holding a little burbling bundle in her arms, with tiny, waving hands. She balanced her child in one arm and closed the door with the other.

The mutant turned and smiled with joy, "Ahh, young Gabby is here for a visit!"

"She is!" Red replied enthusiastically, "she always loves her uncle Leo!"

The mutant swiveled in his chair, and reached out to receive the infant. He beamed down at the child and said, "Hello little one! And have you been eating properly?"

"Everything I can feed her." Red said, "she's relentless. Every few hours. I have to find a place to sit and pulled the shirt down."

Despite his dour demeanor, Jason managed a smile. He said, "How are you and Shorty doing?"

"Same as yesterday: Exhausted." Red took a seat on the bench beside Leo. She said, "we managed to get her to sleep last night at a decent hour, but we didn't have the energy left to do anything with the free time. Just… slept."

"I commend you both." Leo congratulated, "it takes a lot of work to bring a new life into the world." The Supermutant was cradling the child in his enormous hands, and making faces at her, causing her to giggle uproariously.

"Yeah…" Red's brow furrow, "Actually… Leo, you know I love you, but could I talk to Jason alone please?"

"Of course, of course." Leo smiled down at the infant, "Let us go find you your play blocks, young one! I will teach you the alphabet!" he rose to his feet, the wooden bench beneath him groaning with relief, and then headed upstairs with the child. They had a play pen up there, with mattresses, alphabet blocks, teddy bears, and a toy nuka-cola truck.

Red watching him go, and then turned to Jason, "The others and I had a meeting last night…"

"Yeah I heard." Jason told her.

Red blinked, scowling at him.

"I didn't listen in." he said, "I just… heard you talking when I visited the biffy."

"Oh." Red's scowl vanished, "Well then… thank you. For trusting us, I guess."

Jason's face was impassive. He said, "What's happening, Red?"

"The others and I… we want to…" she started carefully, "Thing is, after yesterday… we… we want to move."

The Wanderer stared. To a casual observer, his face remained passive, but Red had gotten to know his well enough to recognize the small signs: tightening of his jaw beneath his beard, the thinning of his lips, and the way his eyes slightly narrowed.

"Move?" he asked carefully.

"Go north, to be exact."

The former Wanderer stared.

"It's just that… it's clear the Legion is here to stay. Even Three Dog on the radio is with them. I don't know what's north, but if we stay here…"

"This is our home."

"Yeah, well…" Red tried to smile, "home is where the heart is, right? Does it really matter whether it's right here or a little north of here?"

"Red, think this through," Jason replied, trying to keep his voice level, "we have a working water purifier here. Fortifications. Guns and ammunition. Medical supplies. Shorty and Timebomb only just got the crops to grow and you want to move?"

"I just think we should consider our options."

"You just had a kid!" Jason barely managed to stop himself from yelling. His face had grown bright red, and his hands had curled into fists.

"I know. I know…" Red raised her hands, trying to calm him.

"We just got set up, Red!"

"Please, Jason, I know."

He threw himself back into his seat and huffed.

"Just… consider it, would you?" she pleaded, "Look, we can't move without you. And we're always with you, but-"

"Yeah? Well I'm not moving." Jason launched himself to his feet and stomped towards the door. "Stay or go. Do whatever the hell you want, but I'm not giving those bastards another inch! Not one more inch, Red!"

He slammed the door behind him. Upstairs, baby Gabby began to cry.

Red let out a long breath and sat back in her seat. "…fuck."

The floor above creaked, and Leo peered over the Bannister, "That went about as well as it could have, I think."

"I don't like getting yelled at, Leo."

"He's just in a lot of pain right now."

"Doesn't mean he always has to put us through it."

"You know he cares deeply for all of you."

She sighed. "I know…"

"That is all I will say of that. Will you help me calm your child?"

"Yeah… yes." The woman rose wearily to her feet and climbed the stairs, dragging her feet as if they were weighted down.

Leo held out a hand to assist her up the last few steps. "We must take life one day at a time. And choose our battles with care." He patted her on the shoulder.

Red reached up and grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze. "You're always such a help, Leo. Thank you."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Ahh! That is so much better." Jericho smacked his lips.

"Yeah?" Jessica grinned at him from across the table. Her own plate lay before her, long since emptied.

"Mole Rat, bell pepper an' onion skewers?" the former raider patted his stomach, "Oh yeah… bin years since I ate at Gary's Galley! Forgot how damned good it was!"

The waitress nearby flashed him a smile, "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Jericho grinned at her and slapped the table, "Another beer!"

"Water." Jessica corrected quickly, nodding at the four bottles the raider had already emptied during his meal.

"Water it is!"

"Fuckin' killjoy" he said, but he was grinning at her. As the water glass was placed before him he laughed, "I can't believe yeh managed ta fall in with those redshirt sons'o'bitches! God damn, boss!"

A nearby Legion guard shot him a glare.

"Life is full of little surprises." Jessica said, raising her glass.

"Here's to ya, then! Fer talkin' me outta the slammer! I thought I was done for down there. Thought that was it."

"I don't leave my people behind, Jericho."

"Yeah. Say, we gotta add a few more guys to our crew, boss! We could rule the roost."

"I'm making plans," Jessica said, "don't have anything solid yet."

"So what's top priority?"

"I need to find out what happened to the people I came in with." Jessica told him, "I know they aren't here…"

"Well if they ain't here, then-"

She waved him into silence, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck prickling again. She turned in her seat to see the two abominations approaching. Each was dressed in his usual pinstripe suit and fedora. Their steps were synchronized, as were their ghoulish twin smiles.

"Oh, fuck. These jokers." Jericho snarled.

"Stay calm." She instructed.

"Greetings, _Immune_ ," one of the creatures said, in his usual strange, oily cadence.

"You're without your beret today, yess." observed the other. Jessica fought to keep her face blank. Boone's beret was still in her pocket. She wondered how much Martin actually knew about her time in New Vegas.

"No Beret? Curious, Mister Martin." The first one said.

"Quite so, Mister Krupp…" said the second.

Jericho rose to his feet, "You two wanna talk with the boss, you gotta talk ta me first, got it?"

The one called Martin blinked, shocked by the man's bluster and pride. "yes, but why debase myself, Dissolute?"

"No reason at all, Mister Martin."

"None indeed Mister Krupp."

"Jericho, sit down please." Jessica asked. The raider slowly lowered back down into his seat, shooting both men death glares.

She turned to them, "If you two have nothing to report to me then kindly move along. You're putting us off our lunch…"

"Fuckin' right!" Jericho added. Jessica watched as a Legionary soldier appeared at the railing above them. He moved with purpose and appeared to be searching the marketplace. Likely for either her or the abominations.

"Take care how you speak, _Immune_." Krupp warned. Behind him, the Legionary spotted her, and headed down the stairs as fast as he could.

"You take care. I'm Caesar's right hand. You're just an abomination sticking your nose where it doesn't belong." Jessica shot back. She raised her hand and waved them off, "isn't there something useful you should be doing?"

The legionary arrived at their table. He held out a letter to Jessica. Krupp reached for it, but Jessica neatly intercepted it first.

 _My sister, I hope you are comfortably settled in! My apologies for the delay in releasing your friend. I am sure you understand._

 _It would please me no end to have you stand at the table with me during today's briefing. Our scouts and explorers bring news of the Wasteland. Together you and I can chart a path forward in Caesar's name!_

 _Your loving brother, Legate Marcus Antonius Vorenus_

She folded it up and slipped it into a pocket in the inside of the courier's duster.

"News?" Martin asked.

"Not for you, I'm afraid," she said shortly, rising to her feet. "Come, Jericho. We've places to be."

* * *

Jessica had Jericho wait outside the briefing for her. Vorenus was waiting alone inside, and he beamed at her as she stepped through the door.

"Sister! I'm so glad you feel up to joining us!"

"Wouldn't miss it." she flashed him a smile of her own.

"You're a little early."

"Where are the others? Septimus?"

Vorenus' mirthful expression soured a little. He cleared his throat. "Did you enjoy your evening, then?"

"It was quite nice, thank you."

"I hope your head is not too sore from the drink."

Jessica shrugged easily. "I only had a few…"

"As did my prize Centurion…" he observed testily.

"Oh, stop being so dramatic. He had a nuka-cola."

Vorenus sighed, "I know you've spent much time amongst the dissolutes, degenerates, and profligates of the world, but I would appreciate it if you would refrain from corrupting my officers."

"Corrupting?" Jessica protested, "Oh please! We drank a few drinks. We talked for an hour. I went to bed. That's it!"

Vorenus watched her for a moment more. He said, "Whatever you're planning, sister, promise me you'll keep me informed."

"I'm not planning anything."

"I hope not." Vorenus clicked his tongue and gazed at the map, "I would hate to hear that my sister was… despoiled by a mere Centurion."

"Despoiled?" Jessica snapped, genuinely stung, "My life is not your damned business, thank you very much!"

"Keeping my men's mind on our mission is!"

"I'm not interested in your men!" She hissed, "The first thing you do when you enter new territory is make some friends in high places. Know who the players are. Understand the game. I want people on my side."

"I am on your side, sister!" Vorenus snapped back.

"Yeah well… Krupp and Martin aren't."

Vorenus eyes flashed with anger, "Why? What have they said? What have they done?" He gripped the hilt of his machete as if about to draw it.

"Nothing! Nothing yet…" Jessica said soothingly, "but I don't like them. I don't trust them, and it feels good to have genuine Legionaries at my back."

The Legate's grip loosened and his shoulders relaxed. He let his hand drop back to his side. " _That_ I can understand," he muttered. "You will not find a better man than Septimus Servius."

Jessica had a sudden, wicked thought. It occurred to her that she might be pushing things too far, but like a hot hand on the Vegas Strip, she felt the hunger to play her cards and toss a little chaos out into the world. She shot her brother a sly, mischievous smirk and said, "Besides, Septimus is a smart man. He won't be a mere Centurion forever."

Vorenus groaned and, with the air of a man defeated, lowered his forehead slowly into his palm, "you were always trouble, sister. Perhaps that is why Caesar sent you so far away – so you could make trouble for our enemies instead of us."

"Speaking of – are you going to catch me up?"

He nodded and gestured at the nearby desk, where a pile of maps and paperwork waited for him. "I apologize for not speaking with you sooner, but I've been very busy. We shall have to steal a moment soon. I'm excited to reintroduce you to the Legion. Have you selected a new set of personal guards?"

Jessica's eyebrows shot up. She said, "I get those?"

"You are Caesar's _immune_. You hand-selected a dozen fighting men to accompany you from place to place. Handpicked companions to go under cover with you. I shall have a list put together of the best Legionaries in the Wasteland so that you can choose a new guard."

"Thank you," Jessica said, "I may take you up on that." Not that she wanted bodyguards; the constant presence of legionaries would make escape even more difficult and dangerous.

She stepped up to the enormous wasteland map which had been laid out across the central table.

It looked so… empty.

Jessica had not realized just how densely settled an area the Mojave actually was. One couldn't walk ten feet without running into a settlement of some sort. Yet this Wasteland map was miles and miles of nothing at all. There were a few flags planted across it, but most were clustered around the southeast corner. It did not take Jessica long to find Rivet City down there. Megaton was south central, and there was another important-looking marker in the northwest. Beyond that? Empty wilderness.

She said, "tell me about the Capital Wasteland…"

"This is a chaotic place," Vorenus admitted, "I lose more men to radscorpions and yao guai than I do to enemy action. We cleared out a sewer of mirelurks one week. And the next a patrol in it is swarmed by ghouls. There are Deathclaws here. I don't know where they come from. They seem to just… appear. The Wasteland is chaos. It is never still, and civilizing it requires my constant care and attention. It's been around a long time. Mostly unsettled." Vorenus took position across the map from her. His voice took on an officious tone. "Truth be told, sister, if things had gone according to plan, we wouldn't be here at all."

"When do things ever go according to plan?"

"Hah. True." He leaned over the map and said, "Caesar and the Good Doctor had made a deal with A first generation Supermutant named Brutus."

"You made a deal with an Abomination?"

"Apparently. Understand, Jessica, that I was sent in to clean up a mess here. We gave Brutus an extra-potent variant of the FEV supermutant virus, and promised him the Capital Wasteland as his kingdom."

Jessica cupped her elbow in her palm and stared down at the map, silently daring it to give up its story to her. She said, "We wouldn't have made a trade like that unless he offered something valuable."

"Which I assume he did." Vorenus shrugged, "I do not know. But we kept our side of the bargain. We paid a small mercenary band called the Talon Company to keep things… dynamic, and weaken the population for Brutus."

"I wouldn't want a nation of Supermutants on my flank," Jessica said.

"I believe the plan was to double-cross them. Wait until they had destroyed everything else in the Wasteland and then inject the FEV cure into the water supply."

"Leaving nothing but empty space behind…" she mused.

Vorenus grinned, "devious, no? And it was working, too. For a time."

"What happened?"

He smiled sardonically, "everything, Jessica. The Brotherhood arrived and allied with the Wastelanders. The Talon Company was forced to back off. Brutus became more forceful and began kidnapping and killing everyone in the Wasteland. Then the Enclave arrived and began to do the same…"

"Hold on…" Jessica said, recall the final flight of Arcade's old friends, "I thought the Enclave had been destroyed."

"On the west coast, yes. But not here. They are here even now, licking their wounds on an airfield not far away."

"You don't attack?"

"I don't have the men. Yet." He said shortly.

"And what of the Talon Company? I met a few of their Mercs when I first arrived here."

"Oh, they're still present." Vorenus said bitterly, "but they no longer work for us. Caps go a long way here, and the Mercenaries grew in power. Began to recruit from the local population. About a year ago they turned rogue and killed our Frumentarii. In in the middle of that, Brutus decided to make his move. A local named James Howett built a large water purifier and the Enclave stole it."

" _James?_ " Jessica asked sharply, "the Father of the Lone Wanderer?"

Here Vorenus paused. His eyes grew dark and troubled as he gazed down at the map. "You've heard of _him_ , then…"

"A few times now, yeah. The Wanderer has a …reputation… around here."

The Legate let out a heavy sigh. He said, "I would rather not speak of him, to be honest."

"Septimus hates him." Jessica said.

"Our standing orders are to capture the Lone Wanderer."

"Septimus wants him dead."

"Centurion Servius came here with two full Centuria and orders to pacify the region." Vorenus said slowly. He bit his lip and said, "Then came the Wanderer. Now he commands only one, and is tied to the southeast corner of the Wasteland."

Jessica stared. "An entire Centuria…"

Vorenus nodded, a tired, deadened look in his eyes.

"How? That's one hundred fighting men!" Jessica exclaimed.

"I understand that Vorenus caught wind of a belligerent settlement to the north of here. He sent one of his two Centuria to pacify it, which they did. They crucified the rebels and enslaved the rest, but the locals managed to get a radio signal out. A call for help… The Wanderer found Septimus' men on their way back to camp. Only a few survived."

"…how?" It was hard to imagine one man destroying that many legionaries. With all of their snipers, gun, bombs and reinforcements, the NCR had only just managed to survive full battles with the Western Legion. How could one man wipe out so many of them?

"We know that he deliberately left some men alive to tell their comrades what happened."

"That's a Legion tactic." Jessica said, thinking of Vulpes Inculta's strange request of her in Nipton.

Vorenus nodded, "it is undeniably effective. They came back telling stories of the Ghost Soldier who could vanish at will and never missed a shot. He pursued our soldiers through the heart of the downtown ruins, just to the north of us."

Jessica glanced down at the tightly-packed map. It was a dense area, probably packed with rubble and alleyways and blind spots.

He said, "The inner city is a maze and our soldiers quickly lost their way. Every turn they took to find a way out only took them further in. The Wanderer harried them day and night. They were split into small groups which he hunted and slaughtered without mercy, disappearing before the scattered reinforcements could arrive to do any good. Even now our patrols are still finding new battle sites. The Wanderer crucified most of them. Hung them from walls with railway spikes. He is a Savage."

"I'm sorry…" Jessica said, and felt shocked; true sympathy for Legion troops? But it was a cruel fate for anyone…

"After that the entire Wasteland rose up against Septimus with the Wanderer at the helm. They are a tough people, Jessica. Tougher than any tribe I have ever faced. They drove us out in two days. Septimus returned to us in shame."

"I'm not sure he deserved that…"

"Caesar was furious, but Septimus is a great soldier." Vorenus said, "I argued for his life."

"You must have put up a good argument."

"It was the Good Doctor who saved him. Victor Presper believes the Wanderer has… gifts. He convinced Caesar that there was no way Septimus would have won. Presper wants us to capture him alive if at all possible. For his experiments."

"And Caesar agrees?"

Vorenus raised his arms and waved at the room around him, "here we are: back again with twice as many Legionaries and more on the way."

"Septimus said you did manage to stop the Wanderer eventually."

"Yes. I'm rather proud of this one. It was my idea, you see, but I got it from you." Vorenus grinned at her, "You're an inspiration, sister. I've watched how you manipulate people and play factions off against each other. The Wanderer defended the dissolutes and profligates from us. So I tore up their alliance. I brought Krupp and Martin with me. They took control of the radio station and forced the DJ to broadcast our propaganda. There's an old building full of printing presses, so we published newspapers with an …alternative… version of Wasteland history: Vox Populi."

"The Voice of the People."

"Yes." The Legate said smugly, "there are many means of making war on an enemy. It worked. His own people betrayed him. He has gone to ground and we have not heard from him since. One problem gone, and we can concentrate on the others: the Enclave, Brotherhood, and Talon Company. I was hoping you might be able to help us with that-"

The door opened, and Septimus Servius himself stepped through. His armour had been polished, and gleamed radiantly. A folder of reports was tucked neatly under one arm. He saw Jessica immediately and smiled, "Morning Jessica."

" _Immune…_ " Vorenus corrected.

"Morning Septimus!" Jessica flashed the Centurion a smile, "How are you doing?" The man looked cheerful enough, but underneath she was trying to imagine what it would feel like to lose one hundred trusting men. Jessica recalled the pain and guilt of stepping into Usanagi's clinic, of seeing Boone's body lying limp on the cot. The feeling of failure was something she knew would never leave her. While Septimus was likely never as close to his men as Boone was, she still couldn't imagine having to bear that kind of loss on her conscience. The madness which had overtaken Septimus' eyes when he had spoken of the Wanderer the previous night began to make more sense.

Composed and formal, Septimus said, "I'm keeping well thanks. I very much enjoyed the evening."

"Me too." She smirked, "we'll have to grab dinner soon."

The Centurion opened his mouth to respond, but Vorenus cut him off. " _Report._ _Centurion_."

Septimus cleared his throat and brought himself to attention, "A bit of an incident with the prisoners this morning, I'm afraid, sir."

"Oh?" Jessica asked carefully.

He nodded, "one of the ghouls somehow got his hands on a bobby pin. He freed himself of his shackles and attacked our men. Put a Legionary in hospital."

"And the abomination?" Vorenus asked.

"he's dead now. And his friends. Their bodies have been burned. All of them." Septimus reported. "I've ordered the prime decanus to assign the men on duty some lashes as punishment."

"As it should be," Vorenus said, "Do we know how he got the pin? The last thing we need is a prison riot."

"Investigations are ongoing." Septimus said dryly. "I do not believe it was any of our men…"

"See that you find out." Vorenus ordered.

Septimus nodded. "It shall be done."

"What else?"

The Centurion smiled and laid his first report on the table. "The Project is complete. Reinforcements have arrived."

The two men exchanged knowing grins.

"That is glorious news!" said Vorenus.

Septimus nodded, "it's about time."

"Sorry," said Jessica, glancing from one to the other, "but…what project?"

"The Good Doctor got a train running for us." Vorenus explained, "We can pull troops from as far West as Indianapolis. I can have ten Centuria here in a week if I need them"

"And we can transport supplies from pacified areas across the empire closer to the front with little trouble." Septimus added, "it's great news for the whole Legion."

"How much did Caesar send us?" Vorenus asked.

"Two more Centuria have already arrived."

The Legate's smile widened, "news just gets better and better… their commanders?"

Septimus passed a report across to him, "Centurions Antonius Aquila and Scapha Vespasianus. Even now they are preparing for the march across the Wasteland to Rivet City. They'll be here in two days."

"Aquila is a career soldier. A little dull, but practical." Vorenus told Jessica, "Scapha is a butcher."

"If Caesar sent Scapha it means he wants this to end." Septimus sounded unhappy.

"…Fort Bannister…" Vorenus sucked air between his teeth, as they both stared down at the large marker in the northwest area of the Capital Wasteland.

Septimus addressed Jessica, "every rebel Wastelander who refused to live under the Pax Americana – Ceasar's rule, has gathered there. They have fortified it. Multiple layers of walls and battlements. An entire farm inside, along with a water purification system and Brahmin herds, pens of domesticated mole rats."

Vorenus said, "They are commanded by a Profligate named Jackrum. He is my counterpart, and the last free leader in the Wasteland."

"And you haven't attacked it before now?" Jessica asked them.

Septimus shook his head, "The fort is very well defended. They have miniguns, rocket launchers, and sniper rifles, with enough ammunition stockpiled to fight for years. They have mininuke mortars sighted in every inch of the open desert plain which surrounds them. And empty desert surrounds them. They will see us coming from any direction, and destroy our forces with explosives and machinegun fire before we even reach the wall."

"If we wipe it out… the Wasteland is ours, but the cost of attacking it until now would have been too high." Vorenus finished.

"But now with reinforcements…" Septimus mused.

"There will still be high casualties, my friend." Vorenus warned.

Septimus sighed heavily, but said nothing.

"Anything more to report?"

The Centurion produced yet another slip of paper. "Decanus Sextus Aventius of the Seventh Contubernium found a settlement up in the northeast."

"His assessment?"

Septimus pass the report across the table to Vorenus, who peered down at it. "Population of a dozen. Vulnerable. Disrespectful. Insolent. They turned down an offering of surrender." He glanced up at Septimus, "the Decanus recommends decimation – we can use the atrocity to bend the will of larger settlements we find."

"How often does this happen?" Jessica asked as he handed the paper over to her. She scanned down the report – sparse as it was. The bullet points were simple sentences. The decanus had drawn a rough sketch of a compound, noting weak points in the defences. Below that was an educated guess at the compound's arms and firepower. "I can't imagine there are all that many settlements in the… wasteland…" Jessica's voice trailed off as she zeroed in on a small note at the bottom of the second page:

 _Dissolute Settlement Leader Identifying Markings & Behavior:_

 _Caucasian_

 _Tall_

 _Blond hair_

 _Blue eyes_

 _Beard_

 _Heavily armed – Chinese assault rifle / combat knife / unknown_

 _Insolent attitude_

 _Recommendation: Crucifixion_

She swallowed, a vague suspicion taking shape.

Captain Cosmos…

It would make sense, of course – where better for the Wanderer to hide than in plain sight? God… was the Decanus even aware of what he had stumbled upon? How close he had come? Assuming her hunch was true – that the Lone Wanderer was there, what could be done about it?

How to play the cards? Even the assumption was a gamble, given the meager description

If she told the Vorenus and Septimus, they would no doubt send all they had after him, leaving them weaker. It would make an escape attempt easier, but where could she even escape to? The Legion covered territory all the way to Indianapolis at least. Besides, Septimus would probably insist on leading the assault himself - she would be left without a powerful ally in Rivet City. Not an ideal position with Krupp and Martin hanging around and two new Centurions on their way.

Maybe there was a way she could spin this in her favour afterall...

Jessica must have let something slip in her expression, because Vorenus was giving her a curious look. "Sister?"

Jessica blinked and looked up at him.

"Is anything the matter?" he asked firmly.

She said, "I just wonder… why would a settlement as small as this dare to be so blatantly, openly hostile to the Legion?" _They must have extra firepower…_

"That is suspicious," Septimus agreed, "perhaps a few extra Contubernia should be brought to bear."

Jessica smiled at him and said, "I was thinking of Krupp and Martin." _If you're going to set an example, then bring in the best..._

Vorenus chuckled, "I know you do not get along with them, Jessica, but they are a significant resource…"

"Don't insult me!" Jessica said indignantly, "This is nothing personal. If they're such great resources then we ought to put them to use in the field."

With any luck the Wanderer would finish them off for her.

Vorenus sighed, and looked back at Septimus, raising his eyebrows.

The Centurion shrugged in response. He said, "We can't let a direct challenge go unanswered, sir."

"Alright… Forty men and the abominations." The Legate said, "That should be enough."

"A settlement that size? More than enough." Septimus agreed.

Jessica smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"Is there anything else, Septimus?" Vorenus prompted, "You still have a report under your arm…"

Septimus blinked and looked down at the folder under his arm, "Ah, Yes – a group of raiders have taken up residence in Our Lady of Hope Hospital. They're performing hit and run attacks on travelers and caravans."

"So?" Vorenus shrugged, "send a detachment and destroy them…"

"If you would allow it, I would like to lead the attack myself," Septimus said, his hand had settled easily on the hilt of his machete. The way he spoke, he reminded Jessica of a caged animal yearning for freedom. She found herself sympathizing.

Vorenus chuckled, "Of course. Happy hunting, my friend!"

"I'd like to come along." Jessica said.

Both men shot her looks of surprise.

"Why?" Vorenus asked carefully.

She shrugged, "Just to get some fresh air."

"It's still dangerous out there, Sister." The Legate warned.

She shrugged, "How am I going to learn about the Legion if I never participate in any of your operations?"

Vorenus had called the city a maze. A good place to get lost, or perhaps to lose others. It was an opportunity for escape, and she wanted to take it. She smiled and touched Septimus' forearm, "Besides, I'm with your best centurion, Brother. I don't expect any problems."

Vorenus glared at her, his lips pressed tightly shut to contain his worry.

Septimus cleared his throat, "Legate Vorenus, if you wish your sister to remain here, then I will assign some men to guard her, and-"

"My sister is free to do as she pleases, as she outranks both of us." Vorenus said testily.

"Oh really?" Jessica grinned mischievously, but Vorenus' attention was focused solely on his centurion. He shot the man a death glare and said, "You, however, do not. Do I make myself clear…Centurion?"

Septimus drew himself to attention, his expression focused and resolute. "Yessir."

"If anything happens to the _Immune,_ you answer not only to myself but to Caesar himself. Understand?"

Septimus gave him a short nod. "I will ensure nothing happens to her."

" _Nothing?_ " Jessica asked slyly, shooting him a sideways look. A slight blush entered the Centurion's cheeks, but he remained otherwise unmoved. He didn't even glance at her.

Vorenus, on the other hand, turned bright red, glaring furiously at both of them. "Get out!"

* * *

 **And we're finally past setup. Jesus this took a while. I apologize. I know this chapter was entirely dialogue driven, but the Courier is a Speech and Charisma character.**

 **Next chapter there will be action! I'm looking forward to it!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Twenty men left Rivet City. Sixteen of them marched in a strict column, with two scouts in front and two at the rear. Septimus was at the head of the main column, Jessica and Jericho trailed behind in the centre. Jericho had his combat shotgun slung over his shoulder. Jessica herself had opted for a 10mm pistol from Flak and Shrapnel's gun shop. She had never really felt comfortable with anything larger than a pistol. She used the free weight to carry extra doses of stimpacks, rad-away and some food. If she were going to escape, she didn't want to be weighed down by a weapon she was not skilled enough to use effectively. Seeing her preparations, Septimus had given her a quizzical look. But Jessica had just shrugged and said, "I want to be prepared for anything."

"Stay in the group," the Centurion instructed, "the city is a labyrinth."

The troop crossed the drawbridge and descended down into the dark, claustrophobic subway tunnels of Anacostia. The scouts rushed a head, keeping low and silent. Septimus had the column halt and waited for them to return, which they did a few minutes later. "All clear, sir."

Septimus waved the column forward into the darkness. "The underground places of this Wasteland are often home to ghouls and other abominations. We have lost men before. We patrol it as best we can, but they seem to grow out of the darkness itself."

"Ghouls in sewahs an' subway tunnels? I coulda told ya that." Jericho whispered to Jessica as they moved forward. She smirked with him, but said nothing.

Sources of light dotted the station, and the tunnels – old pre-war lights, and barrels of old burning fuel set up and maintained by the Legion to mark their path. The tunnels were long and cold, and as Jessica listened to her own echoing feet, she felt apprehension set in. she found herself straining to hear the world around her. Anything to break the dead white noise of the tunnel itself. She swore she could sometimes hear the pitter patter of dry leathery feet, or the occasional harsh animal growl of ghouls, but she wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not.

They passed by old derailed train cars, leaning up against the tunnel walls. They were grey and decrepit, with smashed windows and rusting hulls with rubble heaped around them. The tunnels grew narrower, with gaps sometimes barely able to fit two men across. The column grew long and disorganized. Every so often, Septimus would draw a halt so that they could regain their formation and do a head count.

This careful organization saved them. They were passing between railcars when a dry, throaty roar echoed through the tunnel. At the far end, a spindly red and brown shape in black armour appeared, raising its arms and growling.

"Reaver!" one of the Legionaries cried out.

All at once brown bodies poured forth from the rail cars beside them, swarming the column.

Jericho shoved Jessica aside as a shape dropped down behind her, and he blew it away with his combat shotgun.

"C'mon, boss!" he grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and maneuvered they both through the chaos. Bodies flailed in the darkness. Machetes glinted in the meager light, and limbs bounced off the bloodspattered railcars as the Legion soldiers traded blows with their feral opponents. Jessica pushed and pulled and dodged her way through, her own survival instincts kicking in as she made a beeline for Septimus, who was two railcars ahead of her.

The tunnel echoed loudly with the sounds of battle. The two decani had managed to gather their men, and they quickly evacuated the center of the ambush area. They formed a double-ranked killing wall; hunting rifles cracked from the second rank, pouring smoke and fire into the mob of ghouls while machete-wielding soldiers in front kept the grasping, clawing horde at bay. At the other end of the train line was Septimus, leading a group of six Legion soldiers. He opened his line to let Jessica and Jericho through. The ex-raider took the last few paces walking backwards. His shotgun boomed repeatedly as the writhing brown shapes hissed and squealed, rushing for them both. Septimus drove forward, machete leading the way as he hacked limbs and heads off the horde, he worked with the raider to close the gap in their line.

Watching from behind the skirmish line, Jessica heard a strange splash. Droplets of something wet spattered her sleeveless duster, and the Geiger counter on her pip boy squealed an alarm. She turned to find the source: the Ghoul Reaver was approaching at high speed. As she watched, the creature tore off a chunk of itself and threw it at them. The disgusting projectile arced through the air and hit one of the legion troops in the back. He cried out, staggering to the side, and the skirmish line nearly broke as his comrades rushed to fill the gap.

Jessica pulled out her pistol and began firing at the shape as it drew nearer, its leathery feet pounding against the cold, dank concrete. She hit it multiple times, but none of her bullets seemed to have much effect on the creature's spongy flesh, and it was nearly upon them.

Septimus glanced backwards, saw the danger approaching, and ordered his men to charge. They did, pushing the remaining ghouls back in a sudden furious drive forwards, right into the waiting machetes and rifles of the rest of the column.

Yet the Centurion did not join them. Instead he turned to confront the Reaver by himself. He rushed towards it, gripping his machete tightly. As they reached each other, both combatants swung. Yet the Reaver was slightly faster, and landed an almighty blow to the Centurion's side, throwing him into the cold concrete wall. His weapon clattered to the floor.

Jessica heard him huff in surprise and pain at the creature's strength, but he rolled in time to dodge another blow. The Centurion scrambled for his machete, with the Reaver hot on his heels, and grabbed it. He spun and rose to his feet, delivering a quick upwards slice which caught the ghoul across the chest, cutting it lightly and clanging off its decrepit armour. The creature swiped at him several times, but he was ready, and flowed around each blow, finally spinning out of the way and delivering a decisive chop to the ghoul's upper arm, which dropped to the floor.

The ghoul froze in pain for a moment, and Septimus managed a second blow, lopping its head off. The body tottered for a moment before crumpling onto the steel tracks. The Centurion dropped to one knee beside it, wheezing and clutching his side where the creature had clawed him.

Back at the rail cars, the machetes dipped and rose and dipped again. A few last shots rang out and then silence once against blanketed the tunnel.

"Victory!" One Decanus shouted, raising his machete. The men responded in kind, cheering, and waving their own weapons.

Jessica scrambled over to Septimus. "Are you okay?"

"Damned abominations!" he hissed.

She pulled out a stimpack, and he grabbed her wrist, "what is that? Prewar chemicals?"

Jessica tched disapprovingly, "oh, stop whining and take your medicine." _Big tough soldier can't stand a needle?_

Septimus lowered his hand and let her inject him. His breathing immediately eased up. After a moment, he rose to his feet. "Thank you, Immune."

"No problem."

He turned to his men, "sound off!"

They obeyed, rolling through from one to twenty. No casualties. Jessica gave some Rad Away to the soldier who had been hit by the Reaver's projectile, but there was no permanent damage.

"Nicely done," he congratulated, "but stay sharp. We have a job to do and in Caesar's name we will see it through!"

They reformed their column and continued through the tunnels, keeping a sharp eye out for more ambushes.

* * *

They finally made it out of the claustrophobic train tunnels and into the daylight of Vernon Square. A cathedral-like roof of Old world metal and broken glass panes arched over their heads as they filed out into the train station. The scouts moved first, securing the station as the rest of the column filed through. They moved in an orderly fashion, erecting three-man posts at intervals along the platform. Once they were confident the platform was secure, the scouts moved vanished into the rubble.

Jessica moved a little more slowly, taking in the massive multi-story buildings and the broken store fronts which looked out across the railway platform. She had been around large buildings before, of course. New Vegas, the Sierra Madre, and the Divide all had their share of old world structures. But it wasn't the same as the D.C. ruins. The New Vegas Strip was exactly that: a few blocks of very fancy hotels surrounded by a flat desert. The Sierra Madre was a resort, full of tightly packed alleyways and tile rooftops. The Divide was a hellscape all its own: buildings upside down or sideways or fallen into enormous pieces. All of it haunted by the Marked Men and other horrific denizens.

No, D.C. was different than all of them. It was a city. A city of big plans and big dreams and big ideas. Beyond the concrete buildings, down each street and ally lay more concrete buildings with regal architecture. Grandiose statues and sculptures. There was pride there – an old world grandeur in the wide streets and crumbling buildings. It was muffled by the bombs, yet still present and palpable. This was the heart of the Old World. The core of American Power. Every building, in its architecture alone bespoke old money, and the lordly pride of statesmen.

It was a clue, perhaps, as to the identity of these Capital Wastelanders, and why they were so difficult to conquer, so different from the spears and body-paint of the wild tribals which inhabited the less civilized areas of America: here the people had a shred of their old identity left. Living with these monuments they still remembered, were reminded daily, of how things used to be. Of what the old world was; they existed in the shadow if its pinnacle. Its crowning achievement.

The Legion paused there for a moment, each soldier checking his weapons. A few of them had bruises and scratches from their skirmish with the ghouls in the tunnel. Some of them were quite young, actually. Probably in their late teens. The two youngest looked quite shaken from the experience in the tunnels.

Jessica took a seat on a bench, with Jericho silently taking up station behind her. She allowed herself to be a reflection of the city: stately pride, with one leg crossed over the other and her arms spread out across the back of the bench. The space was hers, as was the view of the city, and the Legion column.

She watched as Septimus moved from man to man, speaking quietly to them in both English and in Latin, checking up on each of them in turn. He stood out in the crowd, with his shining armour and helmet glinting in the sunlight. As she watched, he glanced back at her a couple times. She made to effort to hide her attention, but she did divide it between him and the city. It was a strange thing to see: he was a good leader, and a battle-hardened solider. All business… except when he looked her way and his expression would soften slightly. A fidgety nervousness would underpin his stoic deportment.

Jessica liked that. It made her feel powerful.

Eventually he had checked up on all of his men and immediately made his way over to her.

Jessica looked up at him as he approached. She said, "And how is everyone doing?"

"Fit and ready for battle, _Immune_." He reported, "We wait my scouts' return. We know that the raiders have made a nearby hospital their home."

She shrugged nonchalantly, "So we wait. Gives us time to talk."

Septimus smiled, "Indeed. I am glad you chose to accompany us."

"I am too." She said.

"You should have chosen a more powerful weapon, though." He observed, pointing at the 10mm pistol buckled to her hip.

Jessica laughed, "I don't pick weapons, Septimus, I pick people." She bit her lip and ran her eyes up and down his tightfitting armour, still stained from the subway ambush. She said, "I think I chose rather well, actually."

The Centurion nodded.

"So who da fuck is this guy, boss?" Jericho asked, still standing guard behind Jessica. It occurred to her that he had never properly been introduced to the Legionary. They had stopped at the store for supplies on the way out, but there had been little conversation.

Jessica scolded herself. It was easy to take her friends for granted sometimes. They always followed her but so rarely asked questions or got proactively involved in her business that she sometimes forgot to include them.

Septimus' expression hardened, and he raised his brow, glaring at the raider. "Take care how you speak, dissolute, or you shall find yourself up on the cross."

"Yeah?" Jericho challenged, "I dare ya ta try it, ya-"

"Oh, both of you stop." Jessica snapped irritably. To Jericho, she said, "This is Septimus Servius. Centurion of Caesar's Thirteenth Legion. Treat him with respect. Septimus, this is Jericho. He's an… associate of mine."

The Centurion raised an eyebrow. "You keep strange company, _Immune_. But as you say you choose your people with care. A friend of your is a friend of the Legion." He gave Jericho a gracious nod, "ave, _Amicus_. May Caesar's grace give you strength and guide your hand."

Jericho stared at the centurion, and then shrugged, "Yeah …sure. Abacus to you too, pal."

Septimus grimaced, but said nothing.

Jessica gave the Centurion a sidelong look. She said, "Vorenus told me about what happened with the first invasion …with the Wanderer."

His mouth tightened, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn't speak, but he looked back at her and took a seat beside her. He removed his helmet and ran a hand through his short brown hair. He smelled of sweat and leather. He said, "I am not proud of it."

"I've lost people too." Jessica said, "well… one person. But still…"

"I do not like to discuss it."

"It must have been hard," she said, "losing so many men… the weight of it must be such a heavy burden." _Tell me everything, Septimus. Let's get to know each other…_

The story spilled out of him. "Legionaries are trained as children to wield their blades. To work as part of a larger whole. To fight and win. Regardless of rank, they are my brothers. Each of us is an exemplar. We are honed, mentally, physically, and morally. It is our duty to pacify and tame this world. To bring it to heel and through law and discipline build something new from the mistakes our forbearers made. Each Legionary is worth twenty raiders. Fifty ghouls. We are fighting men and defenders of civilization. To lose so many at one time, to one savage profligate…" he shook his head, chewing his lip, "Caesar did not trust me, but I did not trust myself. I waited in my tent while he deliberated. I had expected to be crucified. Or set alight and thrown off a cliff. I expected to be made an example of. To be punished for my failures. And I would have deserved it."

He met her eyes, "your brother and I had served together on the march east. Many campaigns. Many tribes conquered. He went before Caesar to argue my case."

"He has a lot of respect for you, Septimus."

"And I for him, but it was the Good Doctor, in the end, who convinced Caesar to let me live. He told stories of strange, wandering people. Children of the Atom, to whom the radiation grants gifts instead of sickness and death. Men who can fight harder, move faster, and heal like no others."

"He's been making his own?" Jessica prompted.

"Abominations." The Centurion spat the word out, "Krupp and Martin are but two of many. And what I had faced – the Lone Wanderer – was simply a natural-born version." He shook his head. That madness had taken his eyes again and he glared into the middle distance at visions only he could see. "I had blamed myself for overconfidence, and all of that time the world had put me up against a god!"

"I'm sorry…" Jessica said.

"When I meet him, I am going to kill him." Septimus replied, "It is that simple. I am owed blood. Honor must be restored – my men's honor more than my own. We have returned now with more men and a better plan and Abominations of our own. We will be victorious."

"I'm sure we will." Jessica agreed smoothly.

He turned to her, "But tell me about your people, _Immune_. Who did you lose?"

"A… friend. He was a soldier too." Jessica skirted carefully around mentioning any factions. She didn't need him knowing who the NCR were or where she fit into the geopolitical milieu of the Mojave. She said, "He had been through a lot. Suffered a lot." For a moment she was back in the lounge of the Lucky 38, her lips pressed against Boone's. She recalled the sniper's quiet, reassuring physical presence. His steady voice, and strong arms. She swallowed and said, "He never really got the chance to make things better."

"Was he your lover?"

Jessica stared at the Centurion, taken aback by his bluntness, but it seemed an honest question. He must have picked up something in her tone... She took a moment to consider how to answer. There was nothing gloating, or threatening, or even jealous about his expression. He was simply watching her with his soft brown eyes, displaying nothing but curiosity and sympathy. It was a certain kind of strength of character which Jessica had to admit she was not used to seeing from Legionaries.

He looked away, "I apologize, _Immune_. My curiosity got the better of me."

She said, "We were almost lovers… We were… I don't know what we were… But we had an argument. He left, and in the desert he ran up against someone more powerful than him, and lost before we could find out."

"Septimus said, "I am sorry. I'm sure he fought hard to see you again."

Jessica remembered how cold the sniper's hand had been as he lay motionless on the medial cot. She remembered the way the grief had welled up and overtaken her. At least Craig Boone had at last found a kind of peace. But his death was her loss, and the Mojave's.

She spotted movement beyond the Legion picket line, and pointed. The scouts were returning with their reports. They crossed the picket and reported directly to Septimus, who stood and returned their salutes; once again the Soldier.

"Salve, Centurion. The profligates are holed up in the hospital down the street." The man pointed southward.

"Approach?" Septimus asked.

"Well guarded, sir. Angle iron, barbed wire, and a minigun nest at the end of a long, straight road with mines."

"Any force running straight through would be torn up…" Septimus mused, rubbing his chin.

"That's far better prepared than I'd expect from raiders." Jessica observed, "aren't they usually too drugged out for an organized defense?"

The Centurion raised his eyebrows, but nodded. He turned to his scouts, "Did you count their numbers and weapons?"

"Six men on the main defenses. We counted at least three more entering and leaving the Hospital."

"Already near half our number…" Septimus observed, "and inside the building?"

The scouts shifted uncomfortably, "we were unable to approach, Centurion."

They fell silent as their commander considered his options. "We do not have the men for a frontal assault…"

"There is a side-door, Centurion, but it too is inaccessible. Heavy casualties, either way."

Septimus scowled and turned away, "there is a solution…" he muttered, "we just have to find it."

Jessica watched in amusement as the Centurion considered the information before him.

"Sounds like ya just don't have da men." Jericho said, not even bothering to keep the withering scorn out of his voice.

Septimus turned to him angrily, "I came here with twenty men and a mission to complete, and I will leave here with twenty men and a hospital of dead profligates!"

"Well…" Jessica said cheerfully, rising to her feet, "I think I've heard enough. If you boys can resist killing each other for ten minutes I think I'll take a look myself."

"Wait, what? Seriously, Boss?" Jericho asked.

" _Immune,_ I will send my scouts back with you." Septimus said.

"No. you keep them here." Jessica saw his expression and she chuckled, "I'll be fine. You all stay here. I'm just going to go have a look for myself. That means you too, Jericho."

Both the men grumbled in protest, but Jessica ignored them, and proceeded out into the city alone.

* * *

The Legion scouts were correct: the Raiders had done a very good job of setting up a defensible position. The main hospital entrance was at the end of a long city block, entirely enclosed - no exit, no cover. Jessica was crouched at the far end of the street to have a look herself at the defenses.

It occurred to her for a moment that she could just walk away. Just keep exploring – moving further away from the area. Freedom was within her grasp. That would mean leaving Jericho with the Legion – not a healthy option for him. Besides, she would likely eventually have to reenter the subway system, and she could not survive a horde of the zombie-like feral ghouls. The underground Wasteland was too violent a place to travel without protection.

If what she was seeing at the far end of the block was any gauge, so was the surface.

Around the entrance the raiders had set up a rather frightening castle-like apparatus; enormous imposing spikes of rusty angle iron rose from holes in the tarmac, fanned violently outwards Barbed wire had been tangled in between them. A pile of rubble behind one barricade had been reinforced, and rose a full eight feet above the street. It was manned by a raider carrying a minigun. Between the angle iron, Jessica could see more raiders patrolling back and forth, armed with assault rifles and hunting rifles.

The sign for the hospital had been torn down, and on the wall behind it, shining in bright red paint against the grey concrete, the raiders had outlined a grotesque effigy of an enormous misshapen man. The words beneath the hulking figure read: Krong's Kassle.

Far above all of their heads, a radio tower on top of the hospital had long-since collapsed, and had fallen across the street, smashing an enormous hole in the next building over – a stately looking hotel with a yellowing brickwork exterior.

It looked strong enough to cross.

She carefully waited until she thought the raiders' attentions were occupied, and then darted across the open street, searching for an entrance to the neighboring hotel. She found it about a hundred meters along: an ornate wooden door, flanked by marble columns.

Jessica pulled out her pistol and shouldered the door open.

The interior was gloomy, but lit by fading bulbs – an interesting detail; the building still had power. The air thick and still as a tomb. It stank of death and rot. The floor had been a beautiful thick carpet, but was now worn and moth-eaten. Jessica crept out of the foyer and into the room at large. The entire ground floor of the lobby was covered in massive, rotten corpses. Their bulk betrayed them as supermutants. Clouds of small black flies buzzed thick around the corpses.

"What are we doin heya?" a gruff voice demanded.

"Shut yer gob, Sprinket! We're checkin' da place out. Boss wants to move in, maybe. I like it here. It's swanky."

She crouched and shuffled into a corner, listening closely.

"I sweya dis was a bad idea settin up wid Krong. He's too mean!"

"We gotta be mean! Ya wanna live under da Legion go fuck off ta Rivet City. Under Krong, we're free, man! We got fire power, we got rooms and beds and food. We just gotta keep da King happy, yeah?"

"Yeah I guess, but if we don't find food for Krong, he gonna eat us!"

The voices were coming from the upper level. Jessica crept slowly up a set of nearby stairs, pistol at the ready.

Two raiders were silhouetted in an alcove which branched off of the second floor pedway. A large, broad-chested man, and a thin, spindly teenager. The larger man was armed with a hunting rifle. The smaller had a pool cue. Jessica crept towards, them, the large raider began to recite a poem. Clearly something he had memorized. A work song of some kind.

 _Eat the Meat for Krong the Strong!_

 _Drum the Beat for Krong the Strong!_

 _Seek the Meek for Krong the Strong!_

 _Cull the Weak for Krong the Strong!_

 _Man the Guns for Krong the Strong!_

 _Chosen Ones for Krong the Strong!_

She aimed carefully at the larger man. Her first shot went a little wide, flying over the shoulder of one of the raiders and hitting the wall behind him. He jumped at the noise, which is why her second shot skimmed his abdomen. He cried out in pain, and dropped to the floor.

The second raider had dove for cover, swearing madly. He found shelter behind the nearest wall. He peeked out for a moment, and Jessica fired two more bullets, driving him back. The man on the floor made a scramble for his hunting rifle, and grabbed it, rolling over to sight on Jessica. "You fuckin' bitch! Fucking cunt!"

She dodged to the side as he pulled the trigger. His bullet missed by a good eighteen inches and blew a large hole in the ornate lobby ceiling.

Encouraged by his friend, the spindly younger raider leapt from cover, brandishing his pool cue and charging at her. Jessica fired two more shots, hitting him in the thigh, and dead centre of his chest. He collapsed immediately, slumping over the railing in front of him.

The larger raider had managed to get to his feet, and was raising his rifle for a second shot, "I'm gonna fuckin' make you feel this, bitch! Come get some!"

His second shot narrowly missed her head as Jessica dove desperately off the second floor. The man kept firing, bullets sending puffs of debris into the dead air as she sprinted through the corpses and into a side hallway.

"I'm comin' fer you, Cunt! You can't hide!"

Breathing heavily, her heart pounding against her ribs, Jessica sprinted down the hall searching for a room to hole up in. a strategy, or a way to win. Yet every room was too small, every corner too tight. There was no way to double-back, and she had no mines or grenades.

Septimus was right: She should have armed herself better.

She reached the end of the hallway to see a pile of rubble covering an overturned office desk. Light streamed down from a gaping hole in the ceiling.

"Yer not gonna like what happens when I find ya!" the raider's voice and footsteps echoed through the little maze of hallways, "I'll take ya prisoner! Feed ya ta Krong!"

Jessica holstered her pistol and jumped for the edge of the opening. She caught it with her fingertips and planted her feet against the wall, pushing off to give herself a boost as she clambered up through the hold in the ceiling and back onto the second floor.

"Gonna find ya!" the enormous raider declared from below.

But Jessica smiled; there was only one entrance to the little collection of hallways. She had passed by staircases which had all collapsed. She moved as silently as she could back out onto the walkway which encircled the main lobby, and laid prone on the floor, pistol steadied against a railing post as she aimed squarely at the same entrance she had fled through.

"Where are ya hiding?" the raider demanded, "c'mon out. I promise I won't hurt ya… much." The tip of his rifle slid into view, and she held her breath.

The raider stepped through the door, and this time, her aim was true. The bullet blasted through his temple and out the other side, with an ugly wet blaat noise, and he collapsed to the floor; another corpse to lie with the others.

"Fuck…" she swore under her breath and rolled onto her back, feeling her heart pounding in her chest, letting the fear and adrenaline wash over her. She waiting, while her pulse slowed form a whine to at least a purr. She despised being shot at. It had been exhilarating the first time – in a showdown with Powder Gangers at Goodsprings, but each time it happened was more terrifying than the last. She cursed herself for her overconfidence. She should have brought Jericho, or Septimus, or the Legion scouts along.

Stupid! Stupid risk! And why had she done it? So that the Centurion would look impressed when she came back with answers? Because she was enjoying being an _Immune_ a little too much? Had she grown overconfident? Lady Luck had already blessed her once – giving her a second lease on life after being shot in the head. That it had happened once was incredible. Jessica knew she couldn't bank on it happening twice.

Septimus had mentioned some of the Wanderers had a healing factor of some kind. Jessica was horribly aware that she didn't. Usanagi's monocyte breeder implant provided a little relief, and indeed had saved her life on occasion, but Jessica knew a well-placed bullet would finish her off easily. It was one of the many reasons she preferred to talk her way through problems.

She sat up and reloaded her pistol with a fresh magazine. The two raiders had been huddled up at the alcove… but what had they been working on?

An elevator, as it turned out… they had pulled the repair access panel off the wall, leaving the unit's guts exposed. It was a promising thing that they had obviously not gotten it working yet. That pretty much guaranteed a lack of raider activity on the Hotel's upper levels.

Keeping her ear cocked for any other visitors, Jessica crouched in front of it and gave it a thorough examination it was a simple system: electrical switches connecting through a series of relays to actuate the motor which ran the pulleys for the elevator and counterweight.

If the lights were on, then the building had power. If the building had power, then the elevator likely had power. Jessica was willing to bet it just needed a boost. She set about hunting through the various rooms in the foyer and the maze beyond, scooping up the raider's hunting rifle and ammunition as she passed by his corpse.

Everything always seemed to come down to blind luck, and her prayers were answered when she found a fission battery in a storeroom on the main floor. She hooked it up to the elevator's control panel and was rewarded with a pleasant ding. The elevator door slid open and she stepped inside. She pressed the button for the top floor, and felt the flimsy metal box shift and rumble and groan in protest as the ancient pre-war mechanism carried it once again to the top of the building. It opened out onto the hotel roof. A pleasant space with a lovely elevated rooftop garden restaurant.

Jessica kept the hunting rifle close as she skirted around the edge of the roof and peered over the side, looking down at the hospital, she was standing directly over the raider's defense. A team with hunting rifles could probably do a lot of damage. Even better, there was direct access across the fallen radio tower into the raider stronghold. The Legion didn't have to attack straight on: they could come from above.

* * *

 **Finally some action! I have to say it's great to have a character who is actually vulnerable. Really lets me raise the stakes on smaller fights instead of having to go for bombast all the time.**


End file.
